


Breaking Point

by elaine



Category: The Sentinel
Genre: Angst, Drama, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2007-09-19
Updated: 2007-09-19
Packaged: 2017-12-11 10:39:52
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 26,721
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/797612
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/elaine/pseuds/elaine
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Set post TSbBS. Jim and Blair go on the run, but is the danger real, or has Jim finally lost it?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Breaking Point

 

Blair woke instantly when a hand lightly covered his mouth. Blinking in the faint glow of the moonlight coming in through the skylights, he made out the shape of Jim's head, and swallowed any questions he might have had unspoken. Jim's fingers pressed a little more firmly for a brief moment, then lifted.

"Quiet, Chief." The faintest of whispers barely registered, and Blair nodded silently. Jim smiled and kissed him for perhaps the space of a heartbeat. When he moved away, Blair realised that he was already dressed, head to toe, in dark clothing. No shoes, though. Not even Jim could move that silently except in sock feet.

He slipped out of bed and took the pile of fabric that was immediately thrust into his arms. Jeans, sweater, flannel shirt, jacket - he identified them by feel and hurriedly pulled them on. Then socks but, following Jim's lead, he didn't try to locate his sneakers. When he turned Jim was right behind him, his face darkened with something so that his eyes gleamed eerily. Blair almost jumped out of his skin.

A small pot was pushed into his hands, already open and smelling of something synthetic. Blair spared a thought for what it might do to Jim's skin as he scooped some of the slick stuff up with his fingers and smeared it over his own face and neck. By the time he was ready Jim was standing beside the fire door, a small backpack marring the faint outline of his body. When Blair joined him he turned the lock with a faint snick and eased the door open.

Outside, in the shadow of the building, there was even less light. Their alarm clock had showed it was not long after three in the morning and the moon was waning. Blair could hardly see a thing, but who needed sight when he had his very own sentinel?

Jim crouched by the fire door for a moment. He rose, his hands busy doing something - Blair squinted but couldn't make out what it was. Then, as Jim's head tilted back, Blair followed suit and saw a thin, dark line against the side of the building. It seemed to be moving. Jim gave a muted grunt of approval and turned to lay a hand on Blair's shoulder. "Up you go. I'll be right behind."

This was getting a little crazy. They were alone on the fire escape and there was nobody in the alley below or even at the mouth of the alley, yet Jim's voice was pitched so low even Blair could barely hear it. He drew breath to protest and thought better of it. If he couldn't trust Jim's instincts in a situation like this - whatever it was - then they were both screwed.

He swarmed up the rope more easily than he'd expected, aided by knots every couple of feet. Just like being back at gym in high school, he thought with a hint of smugness. At the top he managed to hook a leg over the edge of the roof parapet and roll down fairly quietly onto the flat surface beneath. It seemed like only seconds later that Jim joined him.

The rope was hauled up and removed from its mooring - and  _that_  had to have been planned in advance. Blair felt his heart lurch and begin to thump hard. No doubt Jim heard it. He turned and took Blair's face between his hands, thumbs moving lightly over Blair's mouth for a moment before they were replaced with his lips.

"Just follow my lead, okay?" Jim's voice was so soft the words were almost subliminal.

Blair nodded; bit his lip. There were a million questions buzzing around in his head like a swarm of pissed off bees, but he wouldn't ask them now. Not until Jim indicated it was safe to talk.

They made their way across the roof, crouching as low as possible, until they reached the other end of the building. There was an alley on that side too. Not particularly wide but, with the vision of a thousand bad cop movies suddenly rising before him, Blair hoped like hell Jim wasn't intending to make him jump across to the other roof.

Once again, he'd underestimated Jim's preparatory abilities. There was a ladder. Blair swallowed nervously as Jim set it up, then crawled across to the other roof, resolutely keeping his eyes on the goal and not the dark pit beneath him. He didn't breathe easily until Jim joined him on the other side and helped him pull the ladder across.

Still silent, Jim touched his arm and led him diagonally across this roof. When they reached the back edge Jim slipped over, hanging from his fingertips for a moment before dropping almost noiselessly onto a fire escape maybe ten feet below. Jesus! Blair forced himself over the edge and dropped into Jim's waiting arms.

A grin split the darkness of Jim's face, leaving Blair in no doubt that Jim knew exactly how much he wasn't enjoying this. If he's overreacting to something... the thought trailed off as Blair realised how badly he wanted this to be an overreaction. Fuck, what if it wasn't? Was the rest of his life going to be like this?

Swallowing his questions and objections both, Blair followed Jim down the fire escape to the bottom. Only when they landed in the small area - it looked like a loading bay, enclosed on three sides - did Jim slide the backpack off, pull out a pair of boots and pass them to Blair.

He pulled them on and fumbled with the laces while Jim did the same. When they'd both finished Blair trotted after Jim towards the open street. A brief pause, the two of them tucked well into the shadow of the wall, allowed Jim to check the street for anything suspicious.

Apparently there was nothing because the tension in Jim's shoulders lessened somewhat. He turned and took Blair's shoulders in a firm grip, lowering his head to within inches of Blair's. "Wait a few minutes after I've gone, then turn left when you leave this alley. There's a note in your jacket pocket. It'll tell you when and where to meet me. Read it and destroy it, okay?"

"No. Not okay," he hissed. "We're in this together, whatever it is. What do you think I'm gonna do if something happens to you?"

"If something happens to me then this whole situation's over and you're in the clear." He shook Blair slightly. "There's some things I've got to take care of and it's better if you're not there."

"Jim..." he was trying to keep calm, not to start hyperventilating. There was no way that his not being at Jim's side was a better option.

"Love you, Chief. See you in a few." Jim kissed him hard on the mouth and with another quick squeeze of his shoulders slipped out of the alley, turning right.

Christ! Blair leaned against the wall, eyes closed, and counted slowly to three hundred. That ought to be enough. He stuck his head around the corner and saw nobody in either direction. Okay. Taking a deep breath, he eased around the corner and, staying close to the building, started off down the street.

Unlike Prospect, this street was dimly lit and had few shops. There was a bakery at the corner, its lights already blazing, but before he reached it Blair crossed the road and entered another alley that would take him a block further away from Prospect. At the far end he paused and searched his jacket pockets. No wallet. No ID - just great! What the fuck was Jim thinking? But there was a folded note, as promised, and something else - a small packet with a plastic cover. He pulled it out and ripped it open. Aloe Vera wipes. He grinned to himself and used them to clean the camouflage off his face.

Out on the street, Blair paused at the nearest source of light and read the note: 2153 West 15th, 0425, was the cryptic message. Blair glanced at his watch. Okay, it was a fair walking distance but he had enough time. He suppressed a sigh and started off at a brisk walk, tearing the note into small pieces and dropping each one into a different trashcan.

* * *

There was no sign of Blair as Jim pulled into the 2100 block of West 15th a few minutes early. He backed the car into an alley and left the engine idling. He'd bought it with cash a couple of months ago and it was the very definition of nondescript in appearance but there was no point in taking chances. When he heard familiar footsteps Jim put the car into drive and eased out of the alley, turning towards the figure that was strolling down the street, hugging the shadows but otherwise acting like any late-night walker in this part of town.

He passed Blair, then pulled over a little way ahead and leaned over to open the passenger door. Blair scrambled in and Jim took off before the door was even completely closed.

"So, are you gonna tell me what this is all about?" There was an edge to Blair's voice; one that told him his partner had nearly reached the point of rebellion.

"Soon." He heard the sharp intake of breath and pitched his voice soothingly. "We're going to a secure place for a couple of hours. Can it wait till we get there?"

Blair sighed. "Okay. But then I want to know everything. You hear that?"

"I hear that." Jim smiled at the reminder of Naomi's influence over her son. "I promise, babe. Full disclosure."

A faint, disbelieving snort lifted his spirits. Blair knew him far too well.

Their refuge was only ten minutes drive away, in a mostly abandoned old industrial area. The place was littered with empty lots and dilapidated buildings, and for years there had been plans to turn it into a variety of amenities - a theme park that never got off the ground, and more recently the city council had been making noises about landscaping the area and turning it into a public reserve. Jim doubted that it would ever go ahead but for now it was conveniently deserted. He stopped in front of a small, deceptively derelict warehouse, unlocked the door and drove the car inside. He left the lights on park, for Blair's benefit.

As soon as he killed the engine, Blair turned to him a spew of questions on his lips. Jim held up a hand, not in the mood right now for this sort of interrogation. "Can you just let me tell you, Blair? Then if you have any questions I'll answer them."

Blair nodded sharply. "All right."

"You know I've got contacts in various agencies from my covert ops days." He smiled faintly as Blair rolled his eyes.

"Well, duh! Anyone who's got the FBI on speed dial, Jim..."

"Yeah, well, I've been hearing whispers for a while. I didn't want to say anything in case it all turned out to be the usual paranoia, but..." Jim shrugged fatalistically, "a while ago I rigged up a security system. It's only activated at night, inside the building. It usually goes off a couple times a night and it's only the neighbours, but this time, I heard..."

"Jim, I didn't hear any alarm." He saw the look on Blair's face; the one that said 'Ellison's finally lost it'. "I've  _never_  heard any alarms."

"Because they're pitched too low for normal hearing, Chief." He saw comprehension in Blair's eyes and continued. "This time, what I heard was suspicious. I got dressed and went out onto the balcony. There were a couple of guys outside on the street with earpieces, and they were talking to guys inside the building. That's when I woke you."

"Okay." Blair swallowed noisily, "so, what... what happens next? Do you know who they are? And what's with all this? How long have you been expecting this? Why didn't you tell me, Jim?"

"Hey, slow down." Jim patted his arm gently. "I don't know exactly who they are, there's just too many little splinter groups, each one more paranoid about secrecy than the last. But I've been expecting something like this since... well, since Brackett."

Blair choked. "Brackett?"

"Well, yeah. I mean, I knew he wouldn't say anything - he likes to play his own game, and he'd want to keep me all for himself - you know what I'm saying?" He grinned as Blair rolled his eyes. "But I figured that if Brackett saw that report and thought it was worth checking me out, then eventually somebody else would too."

"And... what? You've had this... this escape plan ready ever since?" The expression on Blair's face made it clear he thought Jim was only slightly less paranoid than Brackett and his friends. Which could well be true. "What if I hadn't wanted to disappear, Jim?"

Jim tried to keep his face blank but Blair was just too damn good at reading him and anger flared in those expressive eyes. "So when did you decide to include me? After Veronica?"

After they'd become lovers, he meant. After Blair had stomped furiously upstairs a couple of nights after Veronica's death and climbed into his bed and refused to leave.

Guiltily aware that if he lied now, as he desperately wanted to, Blair would quite probably leave, Jim shook his head slowly. "After the press conference."

There was a long silence as Blair stared out of the front window into the blackness beyond the small circle of light. Finally he said in a small, hurt voice: "Jim. Why?"

"I didn't want... Jesus, Blair! I was trying not to wreck your life. I figured that if I disappeared the heat would be taken off you." Hearing that note in Blair's voice hurt more than he could ever have imagined and he dragged in a shaken breath, "I mean, nobody knew you were writing your dissertation on me."

"It wouldn't have been hard to find out, Jim." Blair said dryly.

"But still, they couldn't know how much you knew." Jim hesitated, then added bitterly: "Not until fucking Sid Graham published those excerpts."

"So you were just planning on walking out and leaving me?"

He'd never heard Blair's voice so cold. "No. Not like that. I had backups in place. If there'd been any indication that you were in danger I would have got you out of there. I just wanted to give you a chance."

"And what about... us?" Blair rubbed his hands over his face tiredly. "Jesus, Jim... what about us?"

"I couldn't... couldn't let that get in the way." Ignoring Blair's gasp, he forced himself to plough on, "I mean, I couldn't let my feelings, what I wanted, stand in the way of your safety. Your happiness."

"You think I could have been happy if you just... just disappeared?" Suddenly, Blair turned and grabbed hold of Jim's jacket. He shook Jim fiercely. "What the fuck kind of asshole do you think I am, Jim? Did you expect me to go out and find myself a new girlfriend the next day? Jesus!"

"You would have been  _safe_ ," Jim shouted. "I wanted you to be safe!"

Blair released him and threw himself back against the car seat, his head leaning against the headrest and his hands pressed to his eyes.

His anger fading fast, Jim leaned over. "Blair... Chief, I love you and I want you to be safe. Is that so bad?"

Relief flooded him when Blair dropped his hands and shrugged unhappily. "I guess not. Just... don't leave me out of this stuff again, okay, Jim? We both know what happens when you shut me out."

Visions of Blair floating face down in the fountain, of him facing the cameras at the press conference flashed behind Jim's eyes. He reached over and laid his hand over Blair's. "Never again, Blair." He hoped it wasn't a lie.

Blair's head rolled against the headrest, turning to face him, and he smiled wearily. "So, what next?"

Jim leaned over and kissed him slowly, savouring the moment, because god only knew when they'd have this chance again. "We take it easy for a while. There's not enough traffic on the road right now and we don't know exactly what resources these goons have." He yawned, worn out more by the confrontation they'd just had than the interrupted sleep, or the things he'd done tonight.

"Why don't you get some rest? The seat drops back and there's a throw in the back seat." He shrugged. "One of us should get some sleep now. It's going to be a long day."

Blair's eyes studied his face for a long moment and then he smiled tiredly. "Okay."

Jim switched off the parking lights as Blair settled himself. In a few minutes Blair was snoring softly, his face relaxed in sleep.

* * *

Around six it started to get light outside. Not long after that the slow, steady thrum of morning rush hour traffic started. Jim waited another half hour before waking Blair. "Time to get on the road, Chief."

"Without coffee?" Blair grumbled, but he pulled himself together, raising the back of the car seat and clicking his seat belt into place as Jim pulled out onto the road.

Jim had chosen the area with an eye to a quick escape. Just three blocks away was one of Cascade's main arterial routes and, even in rush hour, it was only thirty minutes or so to the highway, then another thirty to the Interstate. All the same, he drove with one eye on the traffic and the other looking out for anything suspicious.

Shortly after seven he gestured to the glove box. "There's a cell in there. Get it out, will you? Speed dial one."

He took the phone off Blair when he heard the ringing tone. It was answered on the third ring. "Hi, Simon, it's me. I've had to go out of town for a while. My Uncle Arthur, on my Mom's side, has died."

Of course he had no such uncle as both Simon and Blair knew well. He was aware of Blair's stare and the heavy silence on the other end of the phone. "I'm sorry to hear it, Ellison. Is Sandburg going with you?"

"Yeah, you know how he is about that ceremonial voodoo." He chuckled easily. "It'll be a couple of days at least. I'm not exactly sure when the funeral is."

"Okay." Simon sighed. "Keep in touch, Jim."

"Will do. Bye." He cut the connection with a flick of his thumb and tossed the cell out the open window. A few moments later he heard a satisfying crunch as one of the cars in the next lane ran over it. He smiled, anticipating Blair's reaction. "Don't worry, I've got a few more in the trunk."

"Simon knows about your plans?" There was a hint of indignation in Blair's voice.

"I told him soon after Brackett that I might have to disappear one day. That's all he knows." He risked a glance at Blair, who threw him a resigned look. "I arranged with him that he'd call Steven and Naomi from work to let them know what was happening. Otherwise, he'll just play dumb."

"Naomi?" Blair stiffened, his voice rising. "Jim, what do you... I've gotta call her." He plunged a hand into his jacket pocket and cursed when he remembered his cell wasn't there. "Jim, stop the car. I've gotta get one of those cell phones out of the trunk."

"I told you, Simon will call her. Right now, it's better we don't try to contact her directly." He glanced over at Blair's angry, worried face, "believe me, I've had plenty of time to think about this. Naomi's at some kind of retreat right now, isn't she?"

"Yeah, but..." then Blair deflated with a sigh. "Okay, but when we stop, I'm  _gonna_  call her. From a payphone if I have to."

Jim recognised all too well that note of determination. He shrugged resignedly, knowing when to accept defeat. "Better to use a cell. If you  _have_  to call her."

"Believe me, Jim, I have to, okay?" Blair scrubbed his face tiredly with his hands. "Can we get coffee, too? I'm really not at my best before my first cup."

The mild tone of complaint reassured Jim and he smiled. "There's a place just before the Interstate. Think you can last that long?"

"I guess." He yawned noisily. "Where are we going, Jim?"

"Somewhere quiet. Out of the way. We'll lie low for a few days and see what develops." He stifled his own yawn. "After that coffee, do you think you could take over the driving?"

"If that means you'll actually tell me where we're going, then you can count me in."

He chuckled at the disgruntled tone. "Sorry, Chief. I'm just tired. I promise I'll tell you everything after we've had some breakfast, okay?"

* * *

They stopped, as promised, just outside Cascade and had a substantial breakfast for which Jim paid in cash. Then he bought a couple of sacks of groceries, mainly food, for which he also paid cash. They returned to the car and popped the trunk - and that's when Blair began to realise how truly screwed they were.

There was a small arsenal of weapons in there, as well as bottles of water and a tent. Plus two substantial backpacks filled, Jim told him, with clothes, toiletries and dry food. Eight cell phones. Well, if Jim was going to throw them away after each use that at least made sense. He just hoped they'd be able to get some more.

Jim tossed him a smaller backpack and inside Blair found a wallet full of cash and a New York driver's license and credit card in the name of Jacob Blair, but with his photo ID on the license. There was also a pair of glasses - and only then did Blair realise he'd left his own behind at the loft - and another cell.

The call to Naomi went better than he'd expected. Obviously she was still feeling the karmic fallout from the press conference, because she didn't argue or protest, just listened to what little Blair could tell her and promised to be careful. He ended the call feeling guilty and more worried than ever.

Jim was already in the passenger seat and there was no point in hanging around. Blair got in behind the wheel and started the engine. "Okay, where to now?"

"Get on the Interstate. We'll switch to the I-90 outside Seattle, heading east."

He could hear the tiredness in Jim's voice but the need to know what the hell was going on was enough to make him ignore it. "Okay, Jim, I've been pretty damn patient. Now will you tell me what the  _fuck_..."

"Easy, Chief. Easy there. I said I'd tell you, didn't I?" Jim edged the seat back a little and settled himself comfortably. "There's not a lot more I _can_ tell you. At least, not until I get some information back from my contacts."

Blair pressed his lips together, repressing an angry retort. He'd heard Jim calling people on another cell while he'd been talking to Naomi. It made sense that it would take a while to get answers, but he didn't have to like it. "Well, why don't you start with where we're going?"

"Okay. We follow the I-90 to Ellensburg and switch to the I-82. Then at Hermiston we change to the I-84. You got that?"

"Yeah, yeah," Blair huffed impatiently. "That's not exactly answering my question, Jim."

"You need to know this. Just bear with me, okay?" Jim hesitated a moment, then continued. "At La Grande we get off the interstate and onto OR-82. We'll stop at Enterprise."

Blair kept his eyes firmly on the highway. There was still too much traffic for him to do anything else. "And what's at Enterprise, Jim?"

"An airport. Golf club. The usual amenities." Blair hissed annoyance and Jim dropped the flippant act. "From Enterprise we have a range of options. It's not far to Hells Canyon, and there are half a dozen roads we could take into the area. There's no road running right through the canyon, but there are trails. We can pick up one of those if we need to, come out on the other side, in Idaho, or just hide in there for a few days."

"Jim, you know I love camping, but... Hells Canyon? That does not sound to me like a place I want to go to at this time of year."

"Believe me, I hear that. It's pretty rugged. But we'll only go there if we have no choice." Jim yawned widely. "Sorry. There's a hotel in town; we'll book in there using our new identities. Chances are, it could all blow over and we'll go home in a couple of days. I just don't want to risk it being more serious."

It wasn't nearly enough information to satisfy Blair, but he could see it was all he was going to get right now. He sighed and tightened his grip on the steering wheel. "Okay, I'll go along with this," the 'for now' was inherent in his tone of voice, "but, Jim, if we don't get some definite information tonight..."

"One way or another, we'll know tonight whether it's serious." Jim's hand rested briefly on his thigh. "Then we'll decide what to do next."

* * *

They traded off a couple of times over the seven hours plus drive and still managed to reach Enterprise by mid afternoon. As they climbed out of the car Blair stretched and stamped his feet a couple of times while Jim tried to work out the tension in his shoulders.

Blair scanned the facade of the hotel and turned to Jim with a grin. "The Ponderosa Motel?"

"How could I resist?" Jim laughed and rotated his left shoulder with a slight grimace. He felt it click and worked it a bit more. "We'll check in, freshen up and grab a meal, then I'll head back to La Grande to make a few phone calls."

"Jim, that's a one hour drive. Each way." Blair reached into the back seat and pulled out his small backpack. "We've already had a long drive, man."

"I don't want to narrow down our location too much, just in case." He put his hand on Blair's arm, steering him towards the motel. "A couple coffees and I'll be fine. You catch up on some sleep if you like. You never know when we might need to leave in a hurry."

Blair glanced up at him as they walked to the office. "You really think that's likely?"

"I really think I don't want to take a chance on it." He pushed the door open and rang the bell for the clerk, effectively ending the conversation.

* * *

The expression on Jim's face when he returned told Blair that they hadn't been overly cautious in going on the run. He picked up the remote and switched off the TV - twenty-eight channels and not one of them with anything on worth watching - and waited.

Jim dropped onto the bed nearest the door; not the one Blair was lying on. "I still don't have a lot to go on, but there's enough whispers floating around. It's some new group that's been making a rep for being even more ruthless than most. Nobody knows who's behind it and it seems like they recruited the dregs of the secret service community to do their dirty work - people who make Brackett look like a naughty schoolboy."

"Geez, Jim, what are we going to do?" Blair sat up, dropping his feet over the side so he sat facing Jim, only a foot or so apart. "Is Naomi... and your Dad and Steven... are they going to be safe?"

He'd hoped for reassurance, but Jim was looking more and more haggard. "I don't know. I asked... someone whose name you're better off not knowing, to look out for them. Then I called Dad and told him to do whatever he was told."

"And Mom?" Blair shivered, though he'd turned the heating up as soon as they'd arrived.

Jim smiled faintly. "She won't have anything to do with the people I know, but she said she's got some friends who can help keep her out of the way for a while."

"Yeah, she knew a few people back in the day." Suddenly, he felt a little better, knowing Naomi had such a wide range of contacts. At least  _she'd_  be safe. "So, what's next?"

"Food and an early night, I'd say." Jim rubbed the back of his neck and blinked tiredly. "We're safe for the moment, but we can't count on it staying that way."

They'd booked in for a week, but Blair had been under no illusion that they'd be staying that long. But right now, he was tired enough that Jim's plan sounded pretty good.

There wasn't a lot of choice of eating establishments in Enterprise but, to Jim's pleasure and Blair's dismay, there was a Mexican restaurant on West North St. He protested, but when they entered and he smelt the spicy, tomato scent wafting from the kitchen his stomach gave a loud growl and he surrendered to the inevitable. The food was good, which helped, though he stared disapprovingly at the mound of sour cream and guacamole that Jim heaped on his nachos.

Jim waved a forkful of meat and corn chips, dripping with melted cheese, in his direction. "Don't say it, Chief. Let's just enjoy ourselves, huh?"

Blair shook his head mournfully and took a sip of his beer. "At least we walked."

He regretted that fact as they walked back to the motel. It was fully dark now and bitterly cold, even though it was late spring. Cautiously, they walked without touching, hands thrust deep in their jacket pockets.

"Do you think we'll need to go roughing it?" It wasn't a prospect he could work up any enthusiasm for, especially right now.

Jim shrugged. "Too early to tell. Tomorrow we'll back track to Pendleton and pick up another car, just in case. We'll bring it back here and leave it somewhere inconspicuous."

"This has got to be costing a lot of money, Jim." He looked up at Jim's stern face, wishing that he'd just let his guard down even for a few seconds. Jim was making all the decisions, and though he knew it was Jim's area of expertise, he felt shut out.

"I've been putting a bit aside, in a separate bank account, for the last four years. We'll be okay for a while."

"And then what?"

Jim sighed and stopped, turning to face him. "If it lasts that long? We'll probably have to go deep undercover. New identities, new jobs, new lives. No contact with anyone from the past." His eyes shifted, sliding past Blair's to stare over his shoulder. "So, before we get to that point, you're gonna need to decide whether you want to cut loose."

"Cut..." his breath hitched. Jesus! He caught hold of Jim's jacket and dragged him closer, tilting his chin up and allowing the anger to show in his face. "I am  _not_  letting you go, Jim. We're in this together, whatever happens. You got that?"

"Blair, I'm talking about you never seeing Naomi again." Jim's voice was very gentle. "If you can't do that, I'll understand."

The anger drained out of him, leaving him shaking. He leaned into Jim, dropping his head forward to rest against Jim's chest. "I really hope it never comes to that. But if it does... Jim, if it does, there's no question. I'm with you, man."

He heard Jim's quick intake of breath, felt a brief pat on his shoulder. "Let's get back to the motel."

By the time they reached the motel, Blair was exhausted, more from the stresses and emotions of the day than actual exertion. Jim was obviously feeling the same. They showered separately - not that there was enough room in the shower to do otherwise - and fell into the same bed, lying stiffly at first, on their backs with several inches of space between them. But after a few minutes, Jim sighed and said his name. With a little groan of need Blair shifted over, plastering himself against Jim's side. For good measure he slid his leg over Jim's thigh and wrapped his arm around Jim's waist. Then he was able to sleep.

* * *

Jim woke before dawn and immediately cast out his hearing to check for anything unusual. There wasn't anything, hardly a sound in fact, anywhere in the vicinity of the motel. Reassured, he concentrated instead on the slow, quiet thud of Blair's heartbeat and the soft puff of air against his chest as Blair breathed. It was enough to lull him back to sleep for a little longer.

The next time he woke, people in the unit four down from theirs were starting to stir. Further away he heard the muffled growl of traffic. He extricated himself from beneath Blair's sprawl with well-practiced ease and padded to the bathroom. A long, luxurious piss took care of the most pressing of his needs. He washed his hands and splashed some cold water on his face.

Once upon a time, a day like yesterday wouldn't have taken so much out of him. He must be getting old. Or maybe he just had much more to lose now than he'd ever had before. He wandered back into the bedroom, where Blair was still showing no sign of surfacing, and pulled on his jeans. Then he sat on the edge of the unoccupied bed and just stared.

There wasn't much of Blair's face to be seen, half buried in the pillow; just a curve of cheek - smooth tan and dark dusting of stubble, surrounded by a wild tumulus of hair glinting red-gold in the light stealing round the edges of the curtains. He hadn't moved, his arm still flung possessively where Jim had lain and his lips were slackened in sleep; he was drooling just a little, and making a quiet snuffling, snoring sound.

It had almost never happened between them. Never would have happened if it had been left to Jim to get things started. He smiled a little, remembering the night Blair had come upstairs, two nights after Veronica's death.

...

He'd listened to Blair's footsteps coming up the staircase, and cursed under his breath. So Mr New Age had decided it was time to talk things out... well, Jim wasn't interested in discussing this particular debacle. It was still too raw, and Jim wasn't even sure if the grief he felt was for Veronica or the image that he'd carried of her for all these years.

Alan had said that the best man hadn't won, just the most persistent, but Jim was inclined to think that Alan and Veronica had each seen in the other the reflection of their own greed and desire. He was angry about that. Angry that he'd thought all those years that there'd been something between him and Veronica to be betrayed. That there'd been something between him and Alan... and suddenly, he was no longer sure who he'd really been mourning these last two days.

So, when Blair's head appeared above the step Jim pretended to be reading his book. It wouldn't put Blair off, he wasn't so easily halted once he'd determined on a course of action, but Jim didn't have to make things easy for him. He sneaked a quick look, surprised to see Blair in his sleeping gear - t-shirt and sweatpants at that time of year - but said nothing.

Neither did Blair.

Jim barely had time to realise that the sound he heard was the rapid, nervous beating of Blair's heart before his roommate lifted the covers and slid into bed beside him.

This was something new... Jim dropped the book on his lap and turned his head to meet Blair's defiant gaze. "Sandburg, what the hell are you doing?"

"I'm..." Blair's voice was sharp with nerves, "I'm registering a protest, man."

"A protest." He looked around his bedroom, even craned his neck theatrically to stare down into the unlit downstairs area. "I don't see any placards. Are you calling in the union?"

Blair licked his lips. "It's not that kind of protest, Jim."

Jim sighed. Whatever Sandburg was up to, he really didn't feel like playing along. "I'm not exactly in the mood for jokes right now, Chief. How about you get to the punch line?"

"You think this is a joke?" Now Blair was angry, his voice cracking on the last word. "I'm not joking, Jim. I am so pissed off with you."

" _You're_  pissed off with  _me_?" He put a hand in the centre of Blair's chest and shoved him away. "What the  _hell_  have you got to be pissed about?"

"I'll tell you what I've got to be pissed about, Jim." Blair lifted his chin, a challenging gleam in his eyes. "You and Veronica..."

"How about we don't talk about that..."

Blair interrupted, raising his voice to override Jim's. "No. How about we do? How about we talk about why you keep falling for these... these  _women_... who don't have a fucking clue about what you are, about what they've got." To Jim's surprise, Blair's voice began to shake as he steamrollered on. "They just take from you and  _use_  you and they don't... they don't  _love_  you. And you just keep on letting them do it, Jim. They don't know and  _you_  don't know..."

He couldn't tear his eyes away from Blair's furious face. The anger was gone, replaced by an emotion he didn't recognise. "Don't know what, Chief?"

"How fucking fantastic you are. How much you deserve to be loved, man, but you won't let it happen. Won't let me..." and finally Blair broke, turning his head away.

The silence seemed to last an eternity. Jim swallowed, trying to ease the constriction in his throat, but before he could speak, Blair recovered enough to look up at him again. "So, I've decided to register a protest," he said quietly.

Incredibly, Jim felt the beginnings of a smile tug at the corners of his mouth. "So, this is a sit in? Naomi would be proud."

"Yeah, she would." Blair returned the smile, shakily. Then the smiled faded. "We don't have to do anything. Not yet. I just..."

"No, it's okay..." He hadn't even realised he was speaking until he heard the words.

"...just want to be with you." Blair blinked. "Did you say  _it's_  okay? As in 'It'?"

"It? You mean, sex?" Jim hesitated. "Yeah, I guess. I mean... you know what you're doing, right?"

"Uh... kind of..." Blair's eyes scanned his face, lingering on his mouth, "how about you?"

"Not really." He picked up his book, closed it, and placed it carefully on the nightstand. "Why don't you show me what  _you_  know?"

...

Jim grinned reminiscently. They'd spent most of that night just kissing and holding onto each other and sometime in the early hours of the morning when it felt like he'd been hard forever, they'd jerked each other off and it had been awkward and messy and downright incredible.

Every morning since, except in the midst of the dissertation mess, he'd woken to the sound of Blair's snuffling, and the feel of his breath, and the taste of his mouth. And, lately, he'd allowed himself to believe it could last forever.

Carefully, Jim moved to the other bed, closer to Blair, and allowed his fingers to drift over the soft curls. Blair stirred slightly, mumbling something even Jim couldn't make sense of and his fingers, splayed against the sheet, contracted restlessly, perhaps registering that it was cheap polycotton under them instead of Jim's skin.

Blair's eyes opened a fraction, blinking drowsily. Jim brushed the wayward hair back tidily behind Blair's ear - not that it would stay there long - and leaned down to kiss his temple lightly. "Morning, Chief. How about you drag that sorry carcass out of bed and we'll go get breakfast?"

"Uh..." Blair croaked, and blinked again. Then he smiled sexily, or tried to. It wasn't particularly successful. "I've got a better idea. How about you get back into bed?"

Jim chuckled softly as he stood and began to unfasten his jeans.

* * *

"I told you not to drink that last coffee. You want me to stop?"

Blair stopped his fidgeting and glanced over at Jim. "Ha, ha. Very funny, Jim. It's not the coffee, all right?"

Jim glanced at him, smiling with an obnoxious degree of cheerfulness and Blair made a note to start the day with a quickie more often if it got Jim so relaxed. "So, what's the problem, Junior?"

"This whole thing... it's so, so nebulous." He realised he was gesturing again and forced his hands down into his lap. Driving with Jim was dangerous enough at the best of times without distracting him like that. "I mean, usually when we're in this amount of shit, we know who it is we're dealing with. We have  _faces_ , man. We know what they want, or what they're hiding. This... this is just too weird."

"You've just got to learn to go with the flow." Jim shrugged one shoulder negligently. "There's no point in worrying about the things you can't control. Just take..."

"...one step at a time," Blair interrupted. "Jesus, Jim, you sound like an infomercial."

"Chief, I promise, you'll have rock hard abs in no time if you follow these simple instructions."

Blair half turned in his seat to stare at Jim's profile. "I don't get it. Usually,  _you're_  the one stressing out and I'm telling you to relax. What's happened here?"

"For the next four, five hours, there's nothing I can do. There's no point in calling my contacts; they won't have anything new yet. It looks like we've shaken whoever it is that's after us, and I'm on a road trip with my boyfriend." Jim grinned at him. "I figure we might as well enjoy ourselves while we can."

"Live for the day. Yeah..." Blair considered it, nodding. "Naomi would definitely approve of the new you, Jim. If I'd known regular sex would make you so laid back, I'd have jumped you years ago."

Jim removed one hand from the steering wheel to cuff him lightly. "What makes you think I was desperate enough back then to let you?"

"Hey, not the hair, man!" He ducked away from a second attempt and settled himself more comfortably. "So what's on the agenda for today?"

"First, we'll buy that extra car and divide up the resources; half in each. That way if we have to dump this car in a hurry, we can be sure of having the essentials. Then we'll have lunch. Then I'll make a few calls. After that, we head back to the Ponderosa."

Blair grinned at the relish with which Jim pronounced the name of their motel. "You really love that, don't you?" The grin only widened at Jim's throaty chuckle.

* * *

They made it to La Grande just before noon and headed straight for the car sales yards. The first Jim rejected out of hand, not even bothering to go onto the lot. At the second, he wandered between the rows of cars, stopping to look a couple of them over but when the salesman came to greet him he smiled politely and left.

Aware of Blair's ill-concealed impatience, he was relieved when, at the third - out of a choice of four - he found an SUV that was a reasonable price and looked to be in good condition. He haggled briefly with the salesman, bringing the price down by three hundred dollars for a cash payment and drove out of the lot in his new car.

He stopped by their other car and leaned across to talk to Blair. "Meet me at Gangloff Park in twenty minutes. You've got the map?"

"Yeah. But, Jim, where are you going?"

Blair's face was distinctly worried, and Jim grinned. "To buy us some lunch."

As he drove off he heard Blair muttering: "If you turn up with Wonderburger, man, you are  _so_  sleeping in the other bed tonight."

As it happened, Jim hadn't needed that incentive. He'd already got directions from the salesman to the best (and possibly, he thought, only) deli in town. Even on the sidewalk, his nose told him that he hadn't been misled. This was as good as any deli in Cascade - there was even an organic produce sign in the window. He was going to score major points with Blair, especially if that really was tongue he could smell in there.

He emerged from the deli ten minutes later, his stomach protesting audibly at still being unfed, with a couple of custom built sandwiches, bottles of iced tea, and for extra brownie points, a small bag of assorted organic fruit. He was going to get lucky again tonight.

In spite of the fact that Blair had a fifteen-minute lead on him, when Jim pulled into the parking lot at Gangloff Park, it was obvious that Blair had only just arrived. He refrained from commenting, even silently, on his partner's directional skills and climbed out of the SUV.

"So what have you got?" Blair smiled up at him hopefully.

"For you, tongue on sourdough with Swiss cheese, mustard and alfalfa sprouts. For me, roast beef, tomatoes and lettuce on white." Jim brandished their lunch, feeling rather like a puppy hopefully offering up its chewtoy to its master.

Blair's smiled widened into pure joy. "Tongue? Jim, I think I love you."

"Cupboard love." Jim grinned. "Come on, there's picnic tables the other side of those trees."

They ate in silence, according their food the respect it so richly deserved and enjoying the unseasonable sunshine. Afterwards, Jim went into the public restrooms to wash orange juice off his hands and when he came out, Blair was gone.

It only took a moment for Jim to realise that he'd simply moved from the picnic bench to lean against one of the trees, his face tilted up to the sun, eyes closed. Jim held his breath for a moment, partly to allow his racing heartbeat to settle, and partly in appreciation at the way the sunlight dappled his hair with dark brown and gleaming red gold.

Blair's eyes opened as Jim approached, his feet crunching on the loose stone chips, and smiled blissfully. "Is it too weird that this is one of the best lunches I've ever had?"

Jim shook his head. "It's often the way. When there's trouble, you really start to appreciate the little things."

He took another couple of steps, and cupped Blair's face between his hands. Blair blinked lazily and tilted his head back a little as Jim leaned down to kiss him. The moist drag of his lips against Blair's sent a gentle thrumming through his body as his senses opened fully to his lover. He could spend all day kissing Blair, there was so much to savour, so much satisfaction to be had from the simplicity of this act.

Slowly, aware that Blair had voluntarily ceded control to him, Jim deepened the kiss, tasting the tart sweetness of the apple Blair had eaten, the faintly metallic aftertaste of the iced tea. Blair's tongue slid luxuriously against his, following when he withdrew. He shifted his hands, fingers plunging into Blair's already messy hair, thumbs rubbing delicately against his temples, holding Blair captive to his kisses.

How long they spend in this wordless communion, Jim wasn't sure. Blair slid his hands under Jim's jacket, and laid them warm against his back, making happy little noises in his throat as the kiss flowed from his mouth to Jim's and back, as smooth and relentless as the tides. Then Blair's hands moved to his ass, pulling him closer and -fuck! - Blair was hard, his hips rubbing with lazy abandon against Jim's thigh. And  _he_  was hard, a sudden aching hardness where before there had been only languid contentment. Jim gasped into Blair's mouth, his body tensing as he struggled with the urge to lay bare his lover's body, to lie him on the ground and make love to him.

For a moment the issue hung in the balance; then the sound of a train whistle close by recalled Jim to a sense of where they were. Anybody could come upon them at any time and he couldn't guarantee that he'd hear them, with his senses totally focused on Blair, as they would be. He drew back reluctantly, his face only inches from Blair's, and fought for control.

"Jim." Blair's fingers brushed against his cheek, and Jim realised that Blair's other hand was resting against his chest, supporting him. "I guess we'd better get moving."

He managed to open his eyes, and was nearly lost all over again at the sight of lips swollen from kissing, and eyes glazed with barely suppressed desire. He swallowed heavily and nodded, unable to speak for the moment. Blair gave him a tiny shove, and he realised that until he moved Blair couldn't either, trapped as he was between Jim and the tree. He pulled himself together and took a step back.

Blair walked past him, his gait unsteady, and as he passed, his fingers tangled briefly with Jim's. Silently, Jim heaved a sigh and followed his partner back towards the cars.

* * *

It didn't take long to divide their supplies between the two vehicles, and then it was time for Jim to call his contacts. But, lacking sentinel hearing, it was impossible for Blair to make anything of the one-sided conversation that was all he could hear. He mouthed to Jim that he was going to the restroom, received a brief nod in reply and took off.

He returned a few minutes later to a grim-faced Jim standing beside the smashed remains of another cell phone. Blair's heart sank. "What is it?"

"We're going to have to ditch the car and the rest of the cells." Jim turned to the trunk of the car, pulling the backpacks out and thrusting them savagely into the back of the SUV. "I called... one of my contacts, and as soon as I disconnected, a call came in. Guess who it was."

"You're kidding." Blair's eyes widened and his heart began to thump. "How would they have got the number? I thought that was impossible."

"It should be," Jim snapped. "Maybe my source was compromised. So I guess it's lucky I used someone else for the fake IDs and credit cards."

He didn't sound very reassured and neither was Blair. "But if one source was compromised, the others could be too."

"Which is why we'll use cash as much as we can." Jim glared at him. "Are you just going to stand there, or are you going to help?"

"Okay, okay. I'm not the enemy here, Jim." Blair started passing guns and ammo to Jim to store in the SUV. "Did they say what they want? Who they are?"

Jim shook his head. "As soon as I realised who it was I disconnected. They may have the numbers of the cells, or maybe they were tracing the call from the other end, but it doesn't necessarily mean they had our location. I didn't want to take the chance."

"So, what's our next move?" Not a trip into Hells Canyon, he hoped. The weather was fine right now, but there wasn't a lot of heat in the sun, and at this time of year the weather could change - and the temperatures plummet - without much warning.

"We backtrack. Dump the car, sell it if possible, and then..." Jim paused to think, jaw muscle twitching ominously. "There's a place I know, but we can't reach it today and I don't think we should head directly there."

"Right." He handed Jim the last of the ammo boxes and closed the trunk of the car, wishing he'd been there when the call had come through. For all the disruption they'd endured so far, he hadn't actually seen or heard anything himself and it just made the situation all the more difficult for him to accept.

* * *

They fled - there was no other word for it - back along the I-84 to Pendleton, where Jim found a cash buyer for the car by dropping the price to less than half its worth. They left town immediately, heading south on Route 395. A couple of hours later they turned east onto Route 20. Whatever course Jim was following, Blair had no idea and for once forbore to question him. The white-knuckled grip on the steering wheel and the granite facade of Jim's face were enough to deter him from all but the most necessary conversation.

It was growing darker, and Blair simply closed his eyes and tried to relax. Jim had made it very plain he was in no mood to talk and in any case there was little to be said. At some point they crossed into Idaho and turned north, then - at least Blair thought so - northwest. It began to seem like they were heading in a huge circle.

"Pretty much," was Jim's comment when Blair voiced the suggestion. He didn't offer anything further and Blair pressed his lips together to silence the sharp response he would have preferred.

"Maybe I should take over the driving for a while. It's been hours, man." He'd managed a bit of sleep; he couldn't imagine how exhausted Jim must be feeling.

"With your sense of direction?" Jim turned his head slightly, a fleeting smile lightening his face for a second. "Not unless we want to end up in Utah."

"Hey, unfair!" But Blair grinned. If they'd had maps he might have pressed the point, but Jim seemed to have the maps in his head, because they certainly had none with them.

He slept again, and didn't wake until the SUV's engine stopped. He opened his eyes reluctantly, seeing a couple of cars in a darkened parking lot and not much else. Beside him, Jim stretched his back as best he could in the car seat and rubbed his face briskly.

"Where are we, Jim?"

Jim opened the door, letting frigid air into the car. "If I told you, you still wouldn't be any the wiser." He got out, slamming the door and Blair saw him stretching again.

He scrambled out and stumbled on half numbed feet to the other side of the vehicle. "Okay, I've had about enough of you treating me like I'm one of your perps, Jim. We're in this together, and I have a right to know what's going on. To have a say in what happens."

Jim's face hardened. "It's two o'clock in the morning and I've been driving for over twelve hours." He grabbed Blair's shoulders, manhandling him around to face towards the back of the SUV. They were in the parking lot of a motel - the Siesta Motel, according to the sign, which Blair had somehow managed to totally miss noticing until now. "The town is Colfax, Washington and we're going to get a room. Do you have a problem with any of that?"

All the fight went out of him with a long sigh and he relaxed back against Jim's solid bulk. "No, I don't have a problem with  _that_."

The emphasis on the last word was blatant, but Jim ignored it. "Then let's go check in."

* * *

A few hours sleep restored Jim's equilibrium a little. He woke, spooned up behind Blair, his face full of rampant curls, and spared a moment's regret for his curtness the night before. The mood between them had remained chilly even after they'd gone to bed and Blair had rolled onto his side, facing away from Jim. But, apparently even in sleep, Jim couldn't bear to keep his distance from Blair. He smiled at that thought and pressed a kiss to the side of Blair's neck before disengaging and heading to the bathroom.

He showered quickly and returned to the bedroom to get his razor, only then realising that last night they'd forgotten to bring the backpacks inside. Which also meant he had nothing to wear but his sweaty clothes from yesterday and the thought of putting them on again, even briefly, made his skin crawl. He sat on the edge of the bed and shook Blair's shoulder gently. "Come on, Chief. Time to wake up."

Blair grumbled and tried to snuggle back down inside the covers, but when Jim persisted, he rolled onto his back, scrubbing at his face and blinking balefully. "What? What time is it?"

"Nearly nine, sleepyhead, and I need you to go get some clean clothes and a razor for me." Jim patted him hopefully on the cheek.

Blair's eyes were almost fully open now. They surveyed Jim's body, while a smile tugged at the corners of his mouth. Obviously, his mood had also been improved by sleep. "Why? View looks pretty good, man."

"So we can go to that diner a block south of here and have breakfast." Jim explained patiently. It paid to take things slowly with Sandburg in the morning. "You know. Coffee. Eggs, maybe. Bagels."

Blair's eyes lit up. "You've sold me." He stumbled out of bed in his boxers and t-shirt, crossing to the bathroom and closing the door behind him. Jim heard his sigh of satisfaction as he pissed, then the faucet running as he washed his hands.

It was a slightly more coherent Sandburg who exited the bathroom, pulled on jeans, sweater and sneakers and grabbed the car keys on the way to the door. He paused in the doorway to glance back, shake his head dolefully, and remark that he must be insane to pass up an opportunity like this one, then ducked away with a yelp as Jim threw a pillow at him.

He listened as Blair hurried down the stairs and across the parking lot, humming cheerfully under his breath. Only Sandburg... he shook his head in amusement and began to bundle up his dirty clothing. Last night he'd been too tired to do anything but strip and fall into bed.

The phone rang, forcing him to dial down hurriedly. Unconsciously, he'd still been monitoring Blair and now his ears were ringing. He paused a moment, then picked up. "Yes?"

"Detective Ellison, I hope you slept well." The voice was recognisable, even though he'd heard it only once before, and that briefly. "Please don't hang up this time. You really want to hear what I have to say."

"I seriously doubt that. But don't let it stop you." He felt his gut tightening instinctively. Fight or flight, Blair would say, and mostly right now, he just wanted to run as far and as fast as possible. "How did you know where to find me?"

Soft laughter came from the other end of the line. "Really, Detective Ellison, you don't expect me to give away trade secrets do you?"

"Then tell me something that'll make me want to keep listening."

"All right." There was a slight pause. "That sweater Mr Sandburg is wearing. It's a particularly nice shade of red. Carnelian, I'd call it, or perhaps carmine? What do you think?"

He was at the window in a flash, but Blair was still at the back of the SUV, removing items of clothing from one of the backpacks.

"I think if you harm him in  _any_  way, there's nothing on this earth that will keep me from hunting you down and making you beg me to kill you. Have you got that?" He forced the words out from between clenched teeth. "Sandburg's not a part of whatever you want with me."

"Oh, I seriously question that. Mr Sandburg seems to be quite integral to my plans, if only as a bargaining piece." The voice sounded obscenely complacent. "However, I  _will_  admit that obtaining your services is my main objective. Now, detective..." suddenly the voice was stripped of all humour, "just look to your left, about three hundred yards away. Can you see the man standing there? And don't call out to your friend. You'll regret it if you do."

"I can see there's someone by the trees." Actually, he could see a lot more than that - the marksman's rifle in his hands as he lifted the gun and aimed towards the car park and the glint of sunlight on the scope. The instinct to scream out a warning to Blair was almost overwhelming.

"Tell me what the logo is on his jacket, or I give the order to fire right now."

Immediately, Jim focused on the dark jacket, but the sniper's stance only allowed him to see part of the logo. "It's... I don't know... some kind of tree."

Below, Blair had finished his unpacking and was locking the hatch. It would take him only a minute to get back to the room.

"Very good, Ellison." The smug satisfaction in the voice made him want to puke. "I can certainly make use of a man like you. Now..."

"I'll do it." Jim spoke without having consciously decided, but he knew it was the right choice. "As long as you leave Sandburg out of this."

"Well, that was sudden." His caller chuckled softly. "However I'm by no means convinced that you can function adequately without Mr Sandburg's assistance."

"I'm not going to be any use to you as an unwilling prisoner, and if you try drugs, more than likely they'll backfire. You need my cooperation. That's how you get it." He could hear Blair's footsteps on the stairs. "Give me two hours, and I'm all yours. Take it or leave it, but decide now."

There was a brief pause. Then the voice said smoothly. "Done. You'll be met outside the motel in two hours."

* * *

Any moment now Blair would be coming through the door, and Jim had to be ready. Christ! A lifetime wouldn't be long enough to prepare for this. He heard Blair's footsteps halt outside the door and almost panicked. He couldn't deal with this yet; he needed more time, even if just a few seconds. As the key scratted against the lock, Jim plunged across the room into the bathroom and closed the door.

"Hey, Jim, I got everything, I think. I even..." there was a sharp rap on the door, "you'd better not be using all the hot water, man."

The face in the mirror looked far more composed than Jim actually felt. He flushed the toilet and ran the faucet briefly, then left the bathroom. "Don't worry, Chief. I think you'll be okay."

There was a pile of his clothes on the bed they hadn't slept in, with a toiletries bag beside it. And Blair, standing in the middle of the small room, having just turned to face him, grinning, his eyes roving over Jim's body in frank appreciation.

Immediately, he started to get hard, and the approval - and outright amusement - in Blair's face increased. His feet seemed to want to take him towards Blair, and Jim complied, stopping only when they were almost touching. He stared down into Blair's face, lifted his hand to trail the tips of his fingers down the smooth cheek and cradle the whisker-rough line of his jaw, drinking in the sensations; committing them to memory. His thumb brushed across Blair's lower lip and his own lips parted in anticipation.

A tiny frown gathered between Blair's eyebrows. A hint of puzzlement mingled with concern. "Jim, are you...?"

He couldn't allow Blair to ask. He didn't want to lie, but Blair would never accept the deal he'd made, and Jim was under no illusion that he could outwit Blair if his lover was determined to stop him. Besides, the thought of spending their last hours together in fighting was too painful to contemplate. He tilted his head down and kissed Blair full on the lips with all the tenderness he was capable of.

For a moment, Blair's hesitation was palpable, but Jim brought up his other hand to grasp the tangled curls at the back of Blair's neck and hold him steady as he deepened the kiss. Almost immediately, Blair relaxed against him, his lips parting as his tongue crept out to caress Jim's lip.

It hadn't been part of Jim's plan to make love to Blair - the time they had remaining would be better spent in making plans, in ensuring Blair's safety. But this... this was right. Blair was going to be furious, when he realised how Jim had tricked him, but one day... please, god, one day Blair would look back and take comfort from this, as Jim hoped he would also be able to do.

He nudged Blair back towards the bed, his hands skimming underneath Blair's sweater and drawing it up slowly over his head.

"Jim... man... do we have time for this?" Blair's throat muscles rippled as he swallowed heavily, "I mean... yeah, I want... but..."

He smiled faintly, and angled Blair's jaw, lifting his chin just a fraction so he could kiss the throbbing pulse point just below the jaw line, then run his tongue lightly along Blair's jaw to his earlobe. "Lie down," he breathed, against Blair's ear.

Silenced, at least momentarily, Blair scrambled back onto the bed, staring wide-eyed as Jim removed his sneakers, tossing them aside before crawling onto the bed almost on top of him. "Jim, what is  _with_  you? Is this some kind of Sentinel thing?"

Jim chuckled softly, ignoring Blair's question in favour of sucking gently on his earlobe. If Blair thought he was going primal on him, then he wasn't likely to guess the real reason. He nuzzled Blair's distinctly scratchy throat, inhaling deeply to fill his senses with Blair's scent. And now, it was time to get rid of the T-shirt...

"Oh, man, it is, isn't it?" Blair emerged from the folds of cotton, even more dishevelled and still talking. His voice dropped to a low mutter. "It's probably a reaction to stress...  _damn_  it... I should've..."

Jim silenced him with another kiss, his tongue sliding into the conveniently open mouth. For a couple more seconds Blair continued trying to talk, but finally the muffled sounds faded into a wordless moan and he put his tongue to better use.

Oh, yeah... Jim lowered his body over his lover's, half on top of him, with one leg laid firmly across Blair's jeans-clad thigh. When Blair's free hand came up to clasp the back of his neck, Jim knew he'd capitulated, at least temporarily, and allowed himself to relax his guard.

It wasn't difficult to lose himself in feasting his senses on Blair. He dialled up the sensitivity in his fingertips and skimmed them over the smooth skin along Blair's side, then through the soft, coarse hair adorning his chest. There were so many different textures to pleasure him; and the warm, sweaty scent of unwashed Blair was better than any perfume he'd ever smelled. He smiled against Blair's lips, sliding his tongue deeper and allowed his hand to wander downwards, teasingly tracing the line of Blair's jeans, back and forth until the muscles tightened sharply with each pass and Blair shuddered, moaning into his mouth.

Jim eased back, staring down into Blair's flushed face, drinking in the sight of wide, dazed eyes and kiss-swollen lips and imprinting them on his memory. Blair's hand drifted lazily to cup his cheek, but he remained silent, and after a moment, he drew Jim's head down.

"Love you, Jim," he whispered, suddenly sounding very young. It wasn't the first time he'd said the words, but Jim had never heard that awestruck tone before, as though Blair himself could hardly believe the intensity of his emotions.

At this moment, Jim would have given anything to find the words to tell Blair exactly how much he was loved. But words were Blair's domain, not his. All he could do was show Blair, with his body, his hands, his mouth, what he meant to Jim. He took Blair's hand from his cheek and held it to the centre of his chest, where his heart tripped and stuttered, and pressed it there. "Let me do this, Blair... please..."

Blair swallowed and nodded jerkily, ceding control of their lovemaking to him. Jim smiled, just the briefest curve of his lips, and leaned down to cover Blair's mouth again.

This time when Jim's hand strayed downwards he didn't halt at the waistband of Blair's jeans, just hovered there for a moment until Blair's belly contracted under his touch, then slid his hand into the humid cavity between skin and cloth. He gasped at the furnace heat of Blair's arousal, trapped beneath the thin cotton and heavy denim.

Blair groaned into his mouth, his hips lifting urgently then subsiding, as tremors ran through him. His fingers flexed against Jim's chest, kneading, catlike, in time to the slow, deliberate stroke of Jim's palm against his cock.

It wasn't long before Blair tore his mouth away from Jim's, with a low, desperate, groan. "Jim... god, I can't... I've gotta..." and his body jerked uncontrollably as he came, rubbing frantically against Jim's hand.

"Shh... it's okay... it's okay." He nuzzled Blair's cheek, easing him through the brief, intense aftershocks, stroking his cock lightly until it was over. Blair turned his head, seeking Jim's mouth in a lazy, satisfied kiss and for a moment Jim was content to rest.

But they didn't have much time and, as soon as Blair showed signs of recovering, Jim straddled his legs, unzipping the jeans and sliding them and the boxers together off Blair's hips. Blair assisted with a shimmy of his hips and an abbreviated kicking movement until he was free and Jim could toss the clothing aside.

He paused to admire his lover's nakedness - the luxuriant hairiness, the sturdy body and thighs, the damp, lax cock lying half furled in hollow of his groin. Blair grinned up at him, happily sated but far from finished, as his eyes dropped to Jim's hard cock.

"That looks painful, babe. Want some help?" Blair grabbed, stroked carefully; and Jim shuddered, shoving into the circle of his fingers a couple of times before regretfully pulling free.

"Soon, okay?" He caught hold of Blair's wrists, pressing them down onto the mattress at his sides. When Jim released him, Blair left them there, his eyes flaring with heat, his pupils dilating until his irises were almost obliterated. Jim chuckled softly, aroused almost beyond bearing by Blair's lusty reaction.

There were places on Blair's body - special places, known only to Jim, where a touch, a breath would send Blair's heartbeat skyrocketing. And places that held a special significance, like the twin spots where Zeller's bullets had impacted the Kevlar vest, leaving permanent, barely discernable, depressions in Blair's flesh. Places on his body that even Blair wasn't consciously aware of. Jim visited them all, pressing kiss after kiss to sweat damp skin. Returning, over and over, to suck gently until a faint, dusky blossom marked every spot.

In his mind's eye he saw Blair finding those spots, fingering them, perhaps; a physical link between them that would last a few, precious days longer. Why he should find comfort in that, Jim didn't know, and didn't question. There was little enough comfort to be had anywhere, now, and he clutched it to himself in grim determination.

Finally, when Blair's occasional tremors became continuous, Jim forced himself to stop. They were both drenched in sweat, shaking, almost beyond control. He brushed his fingers lightly over Blair's cock, dark and heavy and struggling to rise after too little time for recovery. He smiled and bent to kiss the slick cockhead, lingeringly until Blair's ragged groan and his own stab of hunger warned him not to waste a moment more.

He reached for the toiletries bag on the other bed and found the lube after a hasty fumble, unable to tear his eyes away from Blair's face long enough to actually look for it.

"Yeah... god, Jim, do it." Blair closed his eyes, panting. "Fuck..."

"Easy, babe." He flipped the top free and squeezed a small dollop onto his fingers - not too much, just enough to ease the way. He wanted to feel this, wanted the sensations to swallow him up.

Blair drew his legs up, wanton and eager for Jim's fingers, for his cock. Greedy for him. Jim knew it, loved to see that expression on Blair's face - the heat, the impatience. His hands were shaking as he opened Blair's ass and spread the bare minimum of lube on his cock. Then he was pressing into the welcoming heat of Blair's body, and shuddering as he felt the control tearing, shredding under the intensity of that moment.

Broad, gentle hands steadied him, and he fell forward over Blair, his head drooping to rest against Blair's shoulder. It took an effort of will for him to move at all, but Blair's hands were sliding down to his hips, his ass, easing him into a slow, deep rocking motion. Blair's hips lifted to meet it and his leg twined possessively around Jim's thighs.

He couldn't last long, didn't need or even want to. He already had everything he needed in the sound of Blair's voice, almost inaudible over the thundering of both their hearts, but anchoring him all the same. He moaned brokenly, managed to thrust a little deeper, to change the angle just a fraction, and felt Blair's body react as he stroked against his lover's prostate.

Immediately, Blair was hard, his cock lifting to brush against Jim's belly. He caught his breath, forced himself to thrust one last time, and excruciating pleasure burst though him. He dimly felt Blair shudder against him, felt the splash of heat against his skin before all sensation retreated, pooling in his cock and his balls and in the achingly hard points of his nipples. Then, white noise...

He came back - it seemed from a huge distance - and found himself slumped against Blair's shoulder, his cock still barely enclosed in Blair's body. With an effort he could feel in his whole body, Jim turned his face into the sweaty hollow below Blair's collarbone and pressed his open mouth to the damp skin. A quick flicker of his tongue stole the taste of his lover. Another memory to savour in the long, empty days ahead.

* * *

Joe's Diner wasn't the best he'd ever been to, but the scrambled eggs, bacon and hotcakes were decent enough. Blair crunched his teeth into a strip of crispy bacon and observed his sentinel from under his lashes.

Jim was pushing the mound of eggs around his plate with a fork, frown lines between his eyebrows. He'd hardly touched his breakfast, not even the coffee, which was better than the usual sludge he drank at the PD. He glanced up, caught Blair watching him and the frown deepened.

"You okay, Jim?" He fought the urge to ramble, speculating about what bug had crawled up Jim's ass now. Sometimes it helped to get Jim talking, if only out of irritation, but this wasn't one of those times.

A brief shake of the head indicated that Jim didn't want to talk. "You just about done, Chief?" He slid to the edge of the booth, signalling his readiness to leave.

Blair caught the waitress' eye. "Can I have another coffee here, please?"

Jim's mouth tightened. "Make that to go. And bring the check."

"Flag the coffee, thanks." He followed Jim to the cashier in irritated silence, then out onto the street. As they turned towards the motel, he hopped a couple of steps to catch up to Jim's longer stride. "So what was all that about?"

Jim glanced around, unnecessarily - there wasn't anyone even remotely within hearing. "That contact I have to see... I can't take you with me, Chief."

"Is that all?" Relieved, he shrugged and grinned. "No problem. I'll wait in the car."

"No." Jim stopped, half turned to face him and caught his arm. "I can't take you anywhere near him. Not even the same town. We have to split up."

Okay, that explained the grim silence and lack of appetite. Blair didn't like the idea himself; he could only imagine how unhappy about it Jim was. "What are we talking about here, Jim?"

"You remember that place we stayed at when we went to the police conference last year?"

"You mean Spo..." He stopped as Jim hushed him, glancing around warily. "Yeah, I remember."

"There's a bus going through here soon. I want you to get on it and wait for me there." Another glance up and down the deserted street. Jim's paranoia was really hitting new heights. "I'll be... it'll be a few hours, okay? Maybe four or five. Don't check in, or book a room, just hang around the lobby."

The alarm bells were almost deafening now. "I don't know, Jim. How dangerous is this guy? Maybe I should come along as backup."

"It's not... he's not dangerous, just paranoid about his secrecy." Jim squeezed his arm slightly, then let go and stepped back a pace. "I'm sorry, Chief. This is the way it has to be."

Blair scanned his face, reading equal parts misery and determination. There was something Jim wasn't telling him, that was for sure, but he knew from experience that now wasn't the time to push, it would only make Jim clam up even more. He shrugged unhappily. "So, where's the bus stop?"

"By the drug store." Jim nodded towards a small, shabby storefront half a block away on the other side of the road. "It should be here in ten minutes."

They headed in that direction, taking their time, peering into store windows, a real estate agent, just two guys killing time in a small town. Only three cars passed them, and then the bus, brakes wheezing as it came to a stop.

His ticket purchased in the drug store, Blair waited out front with Jim, shifting from foot to foot while waiting for the driver and a couple of passengers to return from the public restroom beside the store. At his side, Jim stood silent, the twitching of his jaw muscle betraying his uneasiness. It was almost a relief when the driver boarded the bus and nodded to Blair.

He turned to Jim, almost tempted to balk, but Jim didn't give him the chance. He was pulled into a fierce, quick hug, then shoved almost bodily onto the steps. With a firm hand pushing in the small of his back, he climbed up and walked down the aisle looking for an empty seat. By the time he found one, the bus was already moving and Jim was walking away, his back radiating tension.

* * *

The elderly woman Blair sat beside was on her way to Spokane to visit her granddaughter and great-granddaughter. Blair smiled politely at the photos and admired the tiny sweater she had almost finished knitting. Normally, he would have encouraged her to talk, but he still felt slightly sick at the thought of all the things that might go wrong while he and Jim were separated.

"Did you have a fight with your boyfriend, dear?" she asked indulgently and Blair choked. She patted his arm. "Oh, don't mind me. I'm just an old romantic at heart. He'll come around, I'm sure."

"No, we haven't had a fight." Blair repressed a sigh. Jim would be laughing his ass off if he could hear this. He wished Jim  _could_  hear this.

"Oh..." she nodded sagely, "still in the honeymoon phase, are you? Can't bear to be parted? That's so sweet."

He couldn't help laughing aloud. "Well, it's only for a few days. My cousin's getting married and my family... well, you know..."

She tsked a couple of times, shaking her head. "Lord, he's such a handsome boy too. Looks like he'd be a fine catch. You tell your folks you could do a lot worse. Believe me, I know. My eldest son and the girl he married, well..."

He relaxed against the back of the seat, allowing the tale of her son's marital woes to roll over him, just making the occasional encouraging sound to keep her talking. It passed the time, and he was pleasantly surprised when the bus entered the outskirts of Spokane.

As they descended from the bus, Blair helping his newest friend with her large and surprisingly heavy knitting bag, she smiled and kissed his cheek heartily. "Don't worry, dear. I'm sure whatever's troubling you will work out just fine. You look after that boyfriend of yours."

"I will." He laughed, surrendering her bag to a young woman who looked remarkably similar, if sixty years younger. "Thanks."

It wasn't far from the bus station to the hotel he and Jim had stayed at last year and Blair took his time, wandering through the shops and across the downtown skywalks. When he tired of that, he walked down to Riverfront Park and watched people strolling in the warm afternoon sunshine. Lunch consisted of a couple of hot dogs and an iced tea, and as the day drew on, he found himself drifting closer to the Doubletree.

He chose the restaurant closest to the lobby and perched at the bar, nursing a bottle of Sam Adams and wondering when Jim was likely to arrive and at what point it would be acceptable to start panicking. He was so focused on watching for Jim without being too obvious about it that he almost didn't notice the tall figure walking towards him. When he did, his heart started to thud unpleasantly against his ribs.

"Sandburg." Simon's dark face wore a mixture of irritation and concern. "The car's outside."

* * *

Controlling the urge to hyperventilate took up all of Blair's concentration for the next few minutes as he followed Simon to a dark green rental car and climbed in. It gave him time to realise that only Jim could have told Simon where to find him, but the why of it was beyond him, unless...

He clutched at Simon's arm. "Simon, is Jim... is he..."

The car swerved, nearly hitting another negotiating the narrow space between the ranks of parked vehicles. "Damn it, Sandburg!" Then Simon glanced across at him, his face creased with worry. "Jim's okay. At least, that's what he told me when he called me up and told me to drive nearly five hours to come get you."

Fuck! Blair scrubbed his hands over his face and hair, trying to make sense of it all. "Did he say...? Christ,  _why_ , Simon? What's going  _on_?"

"I was hoping you'd tell  _me_  that." There was a break in the traffic and Simon manoeuvred the car out onto Spokane Falls Boulevard.

Almost immediately they turned onto a side street and then onto Main heading east. It was the easiest route to take them to the I-90. With that realisation panic flared again, bright and sharp. "Wait a minute, Simon. We're  _not_  going back to Cascade! Just stop the car, man."

Around them the traffic surged in regular pulses, obedient to the tyranny of the traffic lights. The door locked clicked down and Simon spared him a brief, annoyed glance. "Sandburg, you are  _not_  leaving me high and dry in rush hour traffic five hours from home. In this mess it'll easily take thirty minutes to the interstate. We'll talk as we go."

"Okay, okay." He fought for a measure of calm, forcing himself to take slow, deep breaths. "What did Jim tell you?"

Simon sighed noisily. "He said, and I quote: 'I need you to go to the hotel where Blair and I stayed last year at the police conference. He'll wait for you somewhere near the lobby. Take him back to Cascade and keep him safe.' That's it."

"Shit." This was worse than all but his worst nightmares. "Shitshitshitshit _shit_!"

The car moved forward a few feet and stopped again. " _Now_  will you tell me what the hell is going on with you two?"

"Jesus, Simon, I wish I knew." That merely earned him another worried, irritable glance. "All I know is that Jim woke me in the middle of the night - Jesus, was it only two days ago? - saying there were people outside and we needed to get out. Since then we've been on the move pretty much constantly."

Simon nodded grimly. "So who were they?"

"I don't  _know_!" Blair bit his lip, trying to control the frustration and the sickening fear that he'd really lost Jim for good this time. "I didn't see  _anything_. Jim's been calling contacts but they don't really know anything either, and whoever these people are, we haven't been able to shake them. Not that I've ever seen any of them... in fact sometimes I... "

It occurred to him, not for the first time, that only Jim had heard the intruders. Only Jim had been present when the call came in on his cell. He wondered what had happened this morning to set off Jim's alarm bells. It must have been while he was down in the parking lot, because Jim had been  _fine_  before then, and afterwards... he flushed as his memory helpfully supplied the details. God, how could he not have realised?

So,  _something_  had to have happened. Maybe. He groaned softly, hating himself for doubting Jim, especially now, but he'd  _seen_  nothing,  _heard_  nothing, and okay, maybe Jim was the sentinel, but...

"...sometimes I wonder if any of this is real, Simon." His vision was unaccountably blurry and he rubbed at his eyes. "I mean... you remember what he was like around Alex. Maybe there's something going on with his senses that I just don't understand."

"That's just  _great_." Simon's hands clenched on the steering wheel. "You don't have any idea where he might be?"

Blair shook his head. "Not a clue. I don't even know if that guy really existed. It may have..." he saw Simon's incomprehension and thought back over what he'd told him so far. "Sorry. This morning he told me he had to go see someone and he couldn't take me with him. That's why I'm here in Spokane. He was supposed to meet me here, but he must have called you as soon as I left."

"Shit." Simon's mouth tightened. "I traced the call, but it came from a payphone in some place called Colfax."

"That's where we stayed last night." Blair slumped down in the seat, thinking furiously. "He's not gonna be there now."

"Well, all the same, maybe we should..." The cell phone mounted on the dash rang and Simon punched the button automatically. "Banks."

 _"Simon, have you got him?"_  Jim's voice sounded tinny over the speaker. Blair grabbed the cell, switching it back to normal mode.

"Jim? What the hell...?" He shook his head, trying to think clearly past the sickening worry. "No, never mind. Where  _are_  you? We'll come get..."

_"Blair, listen. I don't have much time. Go to Dad, he's got the power of attorney I set up for you, and he knows what to do. Don't try to find me."_

_"No_! Jim, don't you fucking  _dare_  do this. You  _promised_  me, man. Don't you..."

_"I'm sorry, Chief."_

Silence. Blair ended the call and placed the cell back in the mounting with shaking fingers. Simon wouldn't appreciate it if he threw it out the window. " _Fuck_!"

* * *

Jim handed the cell to one of his guards and glanced over to the grey suited man. "Thanks."

"I wanted you to know I keep my agreements, Mr Ellison." His new boss lifted his shoulders in a slight shrug. "It makes for a more... amenable working relationship."

Not feeling in the slightest reassured, Jim glanced around the room. The edges of his vision still wavered a bit, and he thought he could taste the faintest hint of aniseed whenever he looked at the beige walls for too long. Synaesthesia, Blair called it. It had happened to him once or twice before when he'd been sedated and it wasn't an experience he enjoyed.

The soft click as the door opened felt like a gentle pressure against the back of his neck. Jim stared impassively at the lab-coated woman who entered, carrying a surgical tray with a sterile cloth and a small hypodermic.

"I told you I had unusual reactions to drugs." He spoke as mildly as he could. Even so the words felt like splintered glass against his skin and he tried not to flinch.

"Yes. I'm afraid the next few days aren't going to be very comfortable for you." There was even a hint of sympathy in the smooth voice. "Please understand that I wouldn't do this if it wasn't necessary. Only a fool damages his tools, but we need to know how you react to certain drugs. It's for your own safety, in the long run."

Jim didn't bother to argue. The deal was done and he'd just have to live with the consequences. He held out his arm, watching almost indifferently as the needle sank into his flesh. The drug, going in, felt like acid and he clenched his teeth. "A tool, huh? Thanks."

His boss merely smiled faintly. "Would you rather have the pretence of caring, or friendship? You are a tool - a valuable one - and I think, Mr Ellison, that you would prefer the honest acknowledgement of that fact over sentimental pretence."

The whole left side of his body was on fire and it was spreading rapidly through his chest. "You're probably right," he gasped as he toppled, slowly, forward. Somebody caught him. He didn't know who.

* * *

"Look, Sandburg, you don't have to do this tonight." Simon's voice, rumbling out of the darkness startled Blair out of his dazed contemplation of the door at 852 Prospect. It had been a long - a  _very_  long - five hours since they'd left Spokane. "You can stay at my house if you like."

"No, I think I  _do_  have to do this tonight." He accepted the spare set of keys that Simon had been given, apparently, months ago by Jim and opened the car door, feeling curiously reluctant to be returning here without Jim.

Simon huffed quietly. "Want me to go up with you?"

God, was he being  _that_  pathetic? Blair decided the answer was probably ' _yes_ ', and forced himself out of the car. "No... thanks, Simon... but would you mind hanging around until I'm upstairs? Just in case... you know."

"Sure." Simon sounded as if he was manfully repressing a healthy dose of irritation, but Blair figured he was just feeling the same sense of numb exhaustion that held  _him_  in its thrall. "Just wave from the balcony, okay?"

"Yeah." He started to close the door and hesitated long enough to mutter another 'thanks' before turning to the door that led into the building.

He made it up the stairs okay, his heart thumping far more than the physical exertion would explain, and stopped outside the loft door. He knew, because Simon had checked, that any going over the loft might have received had not been detectable, still he felt incredibly uncomfortable with the thought of going in there. Not because of fears for his safety. No, it just felt wrong, _really_ wrong, to be here without Jim.

"Oh, for god's sake," he muttered. "You've been here without Jim. Lots of times. You're just being irrational."

He knew why - driving back to Cascade, he and Simon had rehashed the events of the last few days - over and fucking  _over_  - trying to make sense of it all, and failing. It all came down to one thing - was  _any_  of it real? Had Jim really heard intruders? Had someone really called Jim's cell phone? And - the big one - what had caused Jim's sudden about face this morning? They didn't have any answers and maybe never would.

Blair unlocked the door and pushed it open. The loft was in darkness and it felt huge. And empty. It had never  _felt_  empty before, even when it was. But the impression of emptiness was all coming from him. Maybe he should have taken up Simon's offer; because right now, alone in the home he'd shared with Jim for so long, he was feeling more than a little emotionally fragile - fear for Jim's safety, not to mention his sanity, anger that Jim had abandoned him, hurt that Jim's promise to stay with him apparently meant nothing.

It was all too easy to believe, right now, that he'd never see Jim again. Blair ignored the broken sound he made as he finally admitted his worst fears to himself. Damned if he was just going to accept that Jim's disappearance was permanent, but still, it was hard to push aside the fog of depression right now. In the morning, the situation wouldn't seem so overwhelming. At least, he hoped it wouldn't.

There was certainly nobody here now, nor any sign of intruders. He turned on the lights and looked around. Everything seemed fine, though without sentinel eyes and ears, there was no telling what spyware might have been installed in his -  _their_  - absence. He resolved not to make any calls from here, or discuss anything with anyone in the apartment, just in case. Blair took a deep breath and strode across to the French doors.

Simon acknowledged his wave with a raised hand and reversed the car out of its parking space. Blair watched until the taillights had disappeared around the corner before going back inside, locking the door and pulling down the blinds. Then he wandered around the loft, touching things randomly, looking again for any sign of interference and finding none.

His old room looked pretty much like it had when he'd been sleeping there, except the bed was made. There were still piles of books and journals everywhere and empty - or half empty - coffee mugs scattered around the desk. He gathered them up, nose wrinkling at the sight of mould spots floating on the black liquid in a couple, and took them to the kitchen.

Washing them could wait till morning, he decided, and rinsed out the mugs, leaving them in the sink. He drifted down to the bathroom, feeling the effects of the coffee he'd had in North Bend an hour ago. Nothing out of place here, either. There were a couple of towels in the laundry hamper, and he thought, instinctively, 'better do some laundry before Jim...' and then flinched.

Twenty minutes later, he was still roving aimlessly around the lounge area, picking things up and putting them down in the same place, or moving things a fraction of an inch, realigning photo frames and flipping through magazines, only to put them back in the rack unread. Finally he sat on the couch and flopped back, his head tilted back far enough that the tightness when he swallowed could be attributed to the stretching of his throat muscles.

He didn't want to go upstairs to Jim's - to  _their_  bedroom. He'd never slept alone up there; never had to. He could sleep in his old room, he supposed, but that felt too much like admitting his life with Jim was over, and as pissed as he still was at Jim for breaking his promise, as hopeless as he felt right now, Blair knew he wasn't ready to accept that. But sleeping alone in Jim's bed, not knowing if Jim would ever sleep beside him again... the thought made him sick to his stomach.

Finally, with a sigh, he pushed himself out of the couch and went upstairs. The bed looked just like they'd left it, only slightly rumpled. He picked up Jim's pillow and held it to his face, inhaling deeply, but there was no scent of Jim at all, at least none that he could detect - damned fussy sentinel who insisted on changing the sheets every three or four days - and Blair put it down again and stepped back a pace, too exhausted to work up a good mad over it.

Maybe he should just sleep on the couch; he moved towards the top of the stairs and stopped again. This was just silly. With determined movements, Blair stripped off his clothes and left them lying on the floor in a fit of childish petulance. Fuck Jim and all his rules. Jim wasn't here, had  _chosen_  to go off and leave him. If Jim didn't like it, then he'd just have to come back and do something about it.

Yeah, that ought to do it. He could just imagine Jim escaping from whatever shadowy agency had him under its control - if it even existed, which he was still inclined to doubt - so he could pick up after a messy roommate. A tiny spurt of laughter brought no corresponding improvement in his mood.

His bravado lasted as long as it took to crawl between the cold sheets. It felt strange lying in the middle of the bed - too much space around him - but lying in his usual place was worse. The emptiness at his side was like a gaping wound; toss and turn as he might, nothing could ease that pain.

* * *

Jack Kelso hadn't been one of Jim's contacts. Blair knew that much - and knew why. The last time they'd got Jack involved in one of their cases, he'd ended up in hospital. Blair also suspected that Jack's friendship with them was too much a matter of record for Jim to feel safe in using him. Blair had no such compunction - anything, any _body_ he could use to find Jim, he'd use without hesitation. Besides, he didn't know anyone else who would have Jack's knowledge of covert operations.

He didn't call first, instinctively cautious about the phone in the loft being bugged, and by the time he'd gotten ready and left the building, he figured he might as well just go straight to Rainier.

It came as a shock, actually, to see the place again. It seemed like an eternity since he'd last been there, but the furtive glances cast in his direction by some of the students and staff told him it hadn't been nearly long enough to erase his notoriety. Only a little over a month, but it seemed a lot longer ago than that.

"Blair?" Surprise and - thank god! - pleasure echoed in Jack's voice. He smiled up at Blair and waved him towards a chair. "It's good to see you."

"Thanks." Blair returned the smile, somewhat uncomfortably. He'd been trying to avoid his university friends, expecting rejection. Jack's welcome made him realise he should have had more faith in his friends. "Jack, I wouldn't have come to your office like this, except I really need your help."

Immediately, Jack's face turned sombre. 'Help' inevitably meant something to do with his inside knowledge of covert operations. "Whatever I can do, Blair. Is it something to do with your dissertation?"

"You could say that." He wasn't at all surprised that Jack hadn't bought his denials at the press conference, now that he thought about it. He wondered, almost despairingly, if anyone had outside of the media. "Jim's in trouble."

He explained, rapidly, the events of the last few days, providing as many details as he could - given that Jim had told him almost nothing. When he finished he watched Jack's face, torn between hope and fear. If Jack couldn't help him...

"I might have something." Jack pushed his glasses up a little and frowned. "There's a group - fairly new, very hush-hush. It might be them, but I'll have to make some enquiries."

"Okay. Thanks." He stood, nervously wiping his hands on his jeans. "I'll call you at home. I don't want to get you into trouble with the Chancellor, you know?"

Jack shook his head, smiling. "Blair, I've got tenure. I don't have to worry about the Chancellor."

"She could still make your life difficult, Jack. You know that." Still, he smiled, reassured to know that Jack, at least, was on his side. "Besides, these guys... they could still be watching me. I don't want to put anyone at risk."

"You should be careful too. If these people are who I think they are, whatever deal Jim struck with them will only last as long as they want it to."

"Yeah." Blair chuckled unconvincingly. "Well, at least if they grabbed me I'd be with Jim again."

"Not necessarily. Just be cautious about who you talk to, okay, Blair?" Jack sighed. "It'll be a day or two, maybe, before I have an answer for you."

"Thanks, man. I really appreciate it." Managing one last smile, Blair left the office.

He made his way back through the somewhat labyrinthine hallways and out a side door; different from the one he'd entered by. Although he doubted it would fool anyone who was seriously watching him, it was the best he could do. At least his next visit - to Jim's father - wasn't anything he needed to hide, but before he went all the way out to the 'burbs, there was another parent he wanted to check up on.

* * *

"Blair! Oh, it's so good to hear your voice!" Naomi sounded just as she always did. If she'd been worried at all, it didn't show. "Where... where are you? Are safe? And Jim? Is he all right?"

"Mom..." Blair tried to interrupt the torrent of words, but his voice cracked and he had to drag in a deep breath, fighting against the sudden pressure in his chest, the tightness of his throat.

"Blair, sweetie, what's happened?" And now all the exuberance was gone from her voice. "Blair?"

"Jim..." he said, and everything he hadn't dared allow himself to feel came rushing through the breech in his defences. He felt like his ten-year-old self after breaking his arm falling from Mrs Danbush's tree - shocked and bewildered by an intensity of pain he'd never experienced before. "They've got Jim, Mom. I'm trying... I don't know what to do, how to get him back..."

"Oh, Blair..." He heard her speaking to someone else, her voice muffled, then "Where are you, sweetie? Can you tell me that?"

"Back in Cascade." He managed to catch a breath at last, and pulled himself together. He wasn't a kid any more, dammit. "I'm okay. Really." He chuckled unconvincingly. "Sorry, about the dramatics, it's just..."

"You love him and you're hurting." Naomi's voice softened. "I understand, Blair. I'll be there as soon as I can."

"You don't need to..." his voice trailed off as he realised just how much he wanted her to come. She might not be able to help find Jim, but having her around would be a comfort. He scrubbed a hand through his hair. "Thanks, Mom. It would mean a lot to have you here. The loft feels really empty, you know?"

"I know, sweetie. I'd better go. I have some things to take care of before I leave." He heard her sigh. "I'm so sorry, Blair. This is because of your dissertation, isn't it? It's all my fault."

"Oh no, Naomi. It's  _not_  your fault. You never meant to do any harm." He forced himself to breathe, to get the words out. He'd forgiven her almost immediately, after the whole debacle, and it hurt to hear the self-blame in her voice. "These guys, they don't  _care_  who they hurt, what they do.  _They're_  the ones to blame, not you."

"Blair..." there was a sound suspiciously like a sob and then Naomi's voice strengthened, became determinedly cheerful. "Thank you. I promise I'll be with you as soon as I can."

"Thanks, Mom. Bye." Without waiting for her farewell, he hung up the receiver and turned away from the payphone. He couldn't see anybody loitering suspiciously, but admitted to himself that maybe he wouldn't have even if someone  _was_  following him. With a sigh he walked away, looking for a vacant cab.

* * *

"He's coming round." The woman's voice boomed, echoing inside his head. Jim gasped, struggling against the bonds that held him, trying to cover his ears. Another sound assaulted him - a rough, scraping noise that after a moment of sheer panic he identified as the rustle of a stiff lab coat against something... something wooden. "I don't think he's any better. I'll try putting him under again."

"Not yet." That voice, he recognised with a snarl of fury. A slight, almost unbearable, pressure against his cheek told Jim that the man who'd turned his life upside down was bending over him. "Mr Ellison, I think you can hear me. We're working as fast as we can to remedy this."

There was a small pause while he heard the whistle of somebody's breath coming fast, the drub of at least three heartbeats and the creaks and scuffing of people moving restlessly. The sounds closed in on him, mercifully blanking out all the other sensations.

"Put him under."

* * *

"So..." and Simon rolled an eye in Naomi's direction, "you think she can hear us?"

"Maybe," Blair heard the curtness in his voice and didn't bother to apologise. He glanced over at Naomi, seated lotus-style on the rug, her body perfectly poised and serene. She'd tried to get him to meditate too, but he simply couldn't clear his mind of thoughts about Jim, about what his captors might be doing to him. It was frightening to be confronted with the reality - again - of how much his life was tied up with Jim. "It doesn't matter. You can say whatever you want."

Simon shrugged. "You heard anything from Kelso yet?"

Blair shook his head. "He said a few days. It's only been two."

"Well, when you do, you let me know. Just call me. Anytime." Simon leaned forward, lowering his voice. "I've talked to the guys, we're all behind you on this. Just say the word, okay?"

"Simon... thanks." He dragged in a shaken breath. "I'm not sure about this. We don't know who these people are, but they're not going to be pushovers, you know? You've got Darryl to think of, Joel's married... you need to think about what you're risking here."

"Jim's one of us." Simon's lips thinned. "We're _going_ to get him back. There isn't a man - or woman - in Major Crime who won't do everything they can to help."

"You see, sweetie?" Naomi turned her head and smiled brilliantly at them both. "We're all here to help you and Jim. We're going to get him back."

The smile froze on Simon's lips. "You're gonna help?"

"Of course." She stood and stretched, her body as limber as a child's. "Why, I know quite a few activists from the old days - you were just a baby, Blair you wouldn't remember them, I suppose."

"No, Mom. I guess I don't." He tried not to notice Simon's expression of polite scepticism.

Perhaps he should have said something to Simon about underestimating Naomi, but in fact, nobody was more surprised than he when, the next day, she took one look at the photo Jack Kelso produced, turned several shades paler and said quietly, "Blair, I know him."

"You  _what_? Mom, how can you...?" he fell silent as she shook her head, her hand going to her throat in a gesture of shock.

"Ms Sandburg, anything you can tell me about this man could be of great help." Jack spoke gently, and Blair could already see, with a brief spurt of amusement, the early signs of yet another man falling under Naomi's spell. "We know almost nothing about him."

"We were... there was a small group of people dedicated to ending the war. Because Blair was just a baby, I was only involved in the organisational side of things - lobbying, getting contributions, press releases. Robert - he called himself Robert La Fayette then - he was one of the more radical members of the group. He wanted to take what he called direct action." She smiled tightly, "by that he meant bombing government and military facilities in the US. If he'd thought he could have got enough support from the rest of the group, he would even have included civilian targets. He said that if ordinary Americans knew what it felt like to be at war - the way the Vietnamese did - then they'd demand that the government pull out."

"Mom, you were involved with these people?" He'd grown up hearing stories of her anti-war activities, had seen her involved in many different causes and none of them had ever been this dangerous. Suddenly, it seemed like he didn't know her at all.

"Blair, it wasn't the way this sounds. We weren't always entirely on the right side of the law, but I swear, we never tried to harm anyone." She put her hand on his arm and stared at him beseechingly. "Robert and a few others argued for more violent methods, but the rest of the group disagreed. When the war finally ended, I lost track of him and most of the others."

Jack cleared his throat, breaking the spell between them. "So you don't know what he's been doing since then?"

Naomi shook her head. "No, but I do know somebody who might."

* * *

Jim was halfway through his fifth set of reps when the door opened. "The boss wants to see you."

He ignored the man - Sorenson? Yeah, that was his name - and completed his set of twenty sit-ups before getting to his feet, not quite as effortlessly as he would have liked, and grabbing his towel off the low cot that served as his bed.

"What does he want now?"

Sorenson waited impassively as Jim wiped the film of sweat off his face. He didn't answer. The man they all referred to simply as 'the boss' didn't offer explanations for his orders, or encourage his subordinates to question them. At some point, Jim figured, he'd have to stop needling and just accept his new situation, but that time hadn't come quite yet.

He pulled on a shirt and buttoned it as he followed Sorensen down the hallway. As usual, there were few people in evidence. Jim didn't know how many staff this guy had working for him, but it didn't seem to be a large group; he'd identified only seven distinct voices, seen only four people, not counting 'the boss'. He doubted there were many more.

They reached the office and Sorensen opened the door and gestured for him to enter, then followed him in. Jim noted the departure from normal protocol with a slightly raised eyebrow. He nodded casually at the man and, uninvited, sat in the nearest chair.

Nothing he did ever seemed to faze this guy - not outright defiance, nor subtle insolence. It annoyed the hell out of Jim even though he was aware how juvenile his behaviour must seem at times. He relaxed against the back of the chair, just short of slouching, and waited.

"Dr Lambton assures me that you're fully recovered from the effects of the drugs." The boss met Jim's eyes without the slightest hint of apology.

Jim returned the level stare, his chin lifting in a silent 'I told you so'. He waited.

The other man slid a large manila envelope across the desk. "Your first assignment."

"Oh?" In spite of his best efforts, Jim couldn't repress the curiosity in his voice. At last he was going to find out why his entire life had been derailed. He reached for the envelope, ignoring the slight, smug smile that flickered at the corner of his boss' mouth.

There was only a large black and white photo in the envelope. Jim slid it out and looked at the dark, beautiful face, his own face now completely blank. Then he lifted his eyes slowly. "Genevieve Benet."

There was no surprise in the other man's face. He knew. Of course, he knew that Jim had met Benet. Was this why he'd wanted Jim? Knowledge of the target? To use his acquaintance with Benet to get close? And for what purpose?

"In four days Ms Benet will be leading a rally in Washington DC. She'll be well guarded, of course. However that shouldn't be a problem for a man of your abilities."

"You want me to kidnap her?" He couldn't be serious. Benet was on track to being the first elected - honestly elected - President of St Germaine. What the hell did he think he was going to achieve by this?

The boss shook his head, smiling faintly. "I want you to kill her."

"I'm not your fucking tame assassin." Jim wasn't aware of rising to his feet; his hands slammed, palms flat, against the desktop as he leaned forward, his face inches from that smug bastard. "I won't murder Benet or anyone else."

The other man smiled faintly. He hadn't so much as blinked at Jim's reaction. "I'll give you some time to consider your decision. I'm sure you don't  _really_  want to renege on our little arrangement."

Jim allowed Sorensen to hustle him out into the hallway but once there he shook the bodyguard off angrily and stalked back to his room. He hadn't been so naive as to believe that Blair was no longer in danger. Blair was hostage for his good behaviour and always would be. But this... he wondered if the choice of Benet as his first target was deliberate, and concluded it probably was. If he went ahead with this his boss would have another threat to hold him, because if Blair ever found out... he sighed. Blair would never forgive him.

* * *

It was almost midnight and Naomi had gone to bed in Blair's old room half an hour earlier, when a quiet knock on the door sent Blair's pulse skyrocketing. Simon certainly wouldn't be visiting at this hour, Jack wouldn't be visiting at all, and Blair had deliberately avoided contacting anyone else in Cascade. He opened the door cautiously, keeping the chain on.

His first thought, when he saw who was standing there was, 'this is what I'll look like in thirty years', but in fact the guy looked more like Cheech Marin than Blair. He was slightly - maybe a couple of inches - taller than Blair, with long, straggling, dark curly hair liberally shot through with grey. The older man looked Blair up and down and grinned widely. "Blair? Fuck, man, you've grown. Where's Naomi?"

Blair blinked dubiously. This wasn't what he'd expected at all. "Charlie Grover?"

"That's me, man. Gonna let me in?" he nodded vigorously, still grinning.

"Oh! Sure!" He hastened to unfasten the chain and open the door wider. "We weren't sure how long it would take to get the message to you."

Charlie brushed past him, eyes scanning the loft, "Wow, this is a  _really_  cool space."

"Yeah. Thanks." Blair gestured vaguely towards his room, more than a little distracted by the guy's weird manner.  _This_  was the man who was going to help them rescue Jim? Jesus, they were screwed. "I'll... uh, I'll just get Naomi."

When he came back, Charlie was at the stereo, headphones on, bopping vaguely to the music. He turned as Blair got closer and pulled of the headset. "Santana, man. Awesome." He riffed on an imaginary guitar with a theatrical flourish.

Blair smiled politely, his heart sinking even further. "It's Jim's. Santana's his favourite."

"Good music." He moved away, peering at one of the photos, one of him and Jim that Simon had taken when they'd all gone fishing together. "This the guy?"

"That's right. Naomi said you could help us find him." He tried to keep the doubt from his voice and heard the bedroom door open with a feeling of relief. "Mom, hey, look who's here."

If Naomi was taken aback by the sight of this refugee from the 'Sixties, she didn't show it. Instead, she advanced on him, smiling, her arms opening wide. "Charlie, oh, it's so good to see you. You haven't changed at all!"

"Yeah, isn't that a blast," Blair muttered, smiling grimly as they hugged. He went into the kitchen before he could say anything too obviously hostile and put some water on to boil. Laughter drifted over from the couch and he sighed. He suspected it was going to be a long night.

A soft peal of laughter drifted over as he poured boiling water over Naomi's favourite herbal tea mix. On the couch, Naomi was sitting half turned towards Charlie, who was talking animatedly, his hands moving in gesticulations that seemed uncomfortably familiar. Blair gulped. "Naomi?"

She glanced over at him and must have seen something in his face, because she rose and came over to him. "What is it Blair?"

Charlie was absorbed in something on the coffee table - a magazine, maybe. Blair smiled weakly and tried an unconvincing chuckle. "Naomi, please tell me Charlie's not my father."

"Blair!" Naomi's enquiring look turned reproachful. "It's not like you to be so judgemental. You been spending too much time..."

"Mom, please..." he lowered his voice as Charlie's head turned towards them and took Naomi's arm, turning them slightly away from him. "Is he? My father?"

She shook her head, obviously still annoyed with him. "I didn't meet Charlie after you were born. But..."

Blair hugged her.

* * *

"He goes by the name of Robert Morrison now, and he's completely sold out to the System." The tone of Charlie's voice told everyone present how he felt about that. "But his methods are still the same. He'll do whatever he thinks will get the job done and too bad if anyone gets hurt."

Jack was busily poring over the folder that Charlie had provided; there was a hell of a lot of information in there. "How did you get all this information? I didn't even have his name. None of my contacts know him."

"I've kept track of him ever since the Seventies." Most of the laid-back hippy attitude had left Charlie's voice and manner now. It came as a relief to Blair to see a more business-like side to him; at last he seemed like someone who could help. "I had a feeling he'd be trouble."

"Do you know where he might be keeping Jim?" Blair tried to keep the hope from his voice. It was too soon yet. He glanced at Simon, standing well back from the desk - and Charlie - frowning, lips clamped tight around his cigar. "Anything you can tell us, man."

Charlie was leaning over Jack's shoulder. He didn't look up. "I've got some of my people looking now. Should hear back today or tomorrow."

"Great, great." Blair nodded, his movements jerky and nervous. He'd had about four hours sleep last night - like just about every other night since he'd been separated from Jim - and he knew he wasn't exactly firing on all cylinders. He managed a smile for Simon, who wasn't looking any happier at the news. "So, if we get the guys together, maybe we can go get Jim tomorrow."

Simon cleared his throat, but before he could speak Charlie said: "We don't need help from the Pi... cops. I'll get together a team. We know the way this guy works."

"Uh..." another glance at Simon provided no help whatsoever. "Okay, well, it's probably better that way, I guess. Simon?"

"How about we go get a coffee and leave these gentlemen to talk things over?" The very lack of inflection in Simon's deep voice was enough to discourage any dissent. He followed Simon out into the hallway, and from there into the quad, where there were enough students milling around to give the illusion of privacy.

"So, Simon, what's going on?"

Simon's frown deepened. "How well do you know this guy?"

"Charlie Grover? I only met him last night, but Mom's known him since the Seventies. They were both peace activists." He swallowed nervously. "Why?"

"Peace, huh?" Simon removed the cigar from his mouth and stared at it suspiciously. "After you called me this morning I ran a check on the name. It's one of several aliases - one that hasn't been used in decades - for Charles Grosvenor Washington the Third. Who has a list of outstanding federal warrants on him a mile long. Dammit, Sandburg, I should be arresting him right now and handing him over to the Feds."

"Simon, if you do that we may never get Jim back." He caught hold of Simon's arm and felt the muscles tighten in protest. "We need him."

"I know that." Simon sighed gustily, "but I don't have to like it. Do you think we can trust this guy?"

"Do we have a choice?" He released Simon's arm reluctantly and stepped back, shoving his hands into his jacket pockets. "Naomi swears they only took action against property and that no one was ever hurt by anything they did. But she hasn't been in contact with that group since the Vietnam War ended."

"Most of the warrants date back to that time," Simon admitted. "And none of them are for crimes against people, like she said, but still... I don't like it."

Maybe he  _had_  been spending too much time with Jim and other cops, but Blair felt the same uneasiness. All the same, he shrugged it off; at this point he wasn't capable of thinking any further than finding Jim and bringing him home. Whatever happened after that, he'd just have to deal with.

* * *

Jim lay on his back staring up at the ceiling. Staring, but not seeing, since the light was switched off. There was no light switch inside the room, and not even the faintest hint of light came around the edges of the door. There was no window. No sound ever found its way into the room from outside either. World War Three could be happening in the hallway outside and he wouldn't know.

It summed up his situation perfectly. The only control he had right now was over his own body, and even that could be taken way with one command from the man in the office down the hallway. Although it had been one of the hardest things he'd ever done in his life, Jim knew that sending Blair away had been the right decision. Anything was better than Blair being under that man's control.

He closed his eyes against the blackness and shifted restlessly. Normally, he didn't have problems sleeping before a mission, but then he'd never been sent on a mission like this. He'd killed; done things he never wanted Blair to know about, but this... there was not even the thin veneer of an excuse that he was acting under orders, for the good of his country.

No, the only reason Jim was even contemplating doing this was to protect Blair - who would hate him if he ever found out about it. His fists clenched in the bedding, futile rage coursing through him. He  _should_  have been able to protect Blair himself. He'd used every trick he'd ever learned to evade capture in enemy territory; and he'd failed. He still didn't know why. No hope, then, that Simon would be able to do any better.

He couldn't even take himself out of the equation and hope that Blair would be safe - that had been made very clear to him. Without a sentinel to play with, his boss would go for the next best thing - the only man in the world who knew how to find and train another sentinel.

So, until he knew how to neutralise these people, Jim had no option but to do what he had to, and if that meant killing Genevieve Benet... he clamped his jaws together tightly enough that his teeth protested. This was a strictly temporary situation. He'd find a weakness and when he did his so-called boss would answer for what he'd done. And he'd answer to Jim first.

* * *

"Langley?" Still fuzzy with sleep, Blair shook his head incredulously. "He's hiding out under the CIA's noses? Christ."

Charlie shrugged, and once again Blair was uncomfortably reminded of his own habitual ticks. "I never said he didn't have cojones, man. It probably appeals to his sense of humour. Besides, those clueless idiots are too far up their own asses to notice someone else setting up shop next door."

"I guess." Blair stifled a yawn. It was nearly two in the morning and Charlie had woken him just as he'd finally fallen asleep. "So, we're going to go get him, right?"

"Oh, sure. I've got a team on standby. They'll be going in tomorrow, early morning."

"Wait a minute." Annoyance sharpened his voice. "I'm going with you, right? I told you about Jim's allergies and drug sensitivities. He could be in serious trouble, Charlie. I need to be there."

"No sweat, man. Just chill, okay?" Charlie patted his shoulder. "I've got a plane on its way to pick us up. We'll get there in plenty of time."

Charlie didn't explain how he could call on a plane just like that, and Blair didn't really want to know anyway. He'd have some serious processing to do over this, but that could wait until Jim was safe. He turned away, heading for the bathroom. A piss, a shower, and a shave would revive him enough to function. His kit of natural medicines and sentinel-friendly equipment was already packed. All he needed to do was throw a few clothes into his backpack and he'd be ready to go.

Behind him, Charlie chuckled, sounding even more like a dope head than usual. "I'll go get some coffee started."

But, three hours later, as Blair sank into a comfortable leather seat and fastened his safety belt, curiosity got the better of him, and he asked.

"Just a dude with a lot of money who remembers his friends." Charlie spoke with that slurred, druggie intonation that seemed to be his favourite camouflage. Nobody hearing it for the first time would think he was capable of running an underground resistance for over thirty years. "He doesn't ask what I want it for."

"Convenient." He tried to relax into the seat, watching Charlie from under his lashes. He'd underestimated the man at first, but not any more. Charlie had the potential to be just as dangerous to his and Jim's safety as Morrison was. So far, he'd managed to avoid telling Charlie about Jim's sentinel abilities; he just hoped it would stay that way.

Takeoff pushed him back into the seat, but once they were airborne, lack of sleep won out over anxiety. The next thing he knew, they were landing at a private airstrip just outside of Langley.

Two cars were waiting for them, rentals that were just nondescript enough to pass under most people's radar and not so much that they screamed Secret Agent Car. Two men waited with the cars, and with the man and woman who'd flown with Blair and Charlie, they ought to have enough people to infiltrate Morrison's base.

It was still early, but the last grey shreds of dawn had brightened into full day. Not the best option for making a raid, but Charlie seemed to be okay with it and Blair wasn't going to argue - he wanted Jim out of their hands as soon as possible.

There was no discussion. Whatever plans had been made, they were already settled. Blair hadn't been a party to that, but he'd made it perfectly clear to Charlie that he was going in with them.

A twenty minute drive took them to an industrial area, with factories and warehouses already in full swing. The building Charlie indicated was a little smaller than most of the others, but didn't stand out in any way. The other members of Charlie's group drifted into the area in ones and twos, looking like any other blue-collar worker. One was wearing a security guard's uniform.

"What are we waiting for?" Blair turned to Charlie impatiently.

Charlie just grinned, but a minute later the warehouse door opened and one of his men poked a head out. "That. Come on, man."

He hadn't heard any gunfire, but as they followed the guy down a wide hallway, Blair caught a glimpse of one sprawled figure through an open doorway, and heard the voices of at least a couple of men behind another door. There was no sign of Charlie's team until they entered an office at the end of the hallway. Morrison - or La Fayette - was there, under the watchful eye of the woman and the man who was wearing the security uniform.

When Morrison saw Charlie he stiffened slightly, then relaxed, ignoring him, but favouring Blair with an ironic smile. "Well, this is unexpected. Hello, Mr Sandburg."

"Where's Jim?" His question was aimed at Charlie's people as much as Morrison. "Is he okay?"

"Mr Ellison isn't here at the moment." Morrison didn't seem to be the least bit phased by being held at gunpoint. "He's carrying out a little assignment for me."

Blair's heart started hammering against his chest. He glanced at Charlie, who remained silent, then at the woman, who nodded reluctantly. "We haven't found the target, Charlie. There's a secure room that shows signs of occupation, but whoever was there isn't on the premises at the moment."

"Where  _is_  he?" Blair's snarl took them all by surprise, not least himself; but not as much as the way he lunged forward, grabbing Morrison's shirt front in both hands and crowding him back against the wall. "Tell me where he is you fucking bastard."

Morrison laughed, the smug expression never leaving his face. "You know, I really think Mr Ellison would prefer I didn't tell you that."

It was a strange thing to say. Strange enough that Blair hesitated. Then the woman spoke again, her voice hard. "What do you want with Genevieve Benet?"

Genevieve? Blair turned his head, trusting Charlie and the other man to keep an eye on Morrison. She was holding a file folder, open to display a black and white photo of Genevieve Benet. "We... Jim knows her. She was in Cascade a couple of years ago." He turned back to Morrison, tightening his grip and shoving him back against the wall. "What the hell's going on? What's Genevieve got to do with this?"

"I have some friends who like the current conditions in St Germaine. Ms Benet would spoil things for them." Morrison looked as though he was enjoying himself. "Mr Ellison is going to ensure that won't happen."

He couldn't mean what Blair thought he meant. Jim would never... "Jim wouldn't do that," he said, flatly.

"Oh, I think he would. If the proposition was presented to him in the right way." Morrison arched an eyebrow. "It must be nice to have such a good... friend."

He wasn't aware of moving. Wasn't aware of anything until Charlie's voice saying his name broke through a red haze of fury. His knuckles were stinging. Blair looked from Charlie's surprised face to Morrison's bloodied mouth and nose. Had he done that? Then he remembered why he'd been in such a rage. He relaxed just long enough to put Charlie off his guard and then wrenched himself free, grabbing the gun off the man still guarding Morrison.

"You bastard." His voice was shaking but his hand was remarkably steady as he pulled the trigger.

Morrison stared down at the dart in his chest. "Oh, Charles. So very PC. You never really dragged yourself out of the Seventies, did you?"

As Morrison crumpled Charlie removed the gun from Blair's numb hand. "You realised you've just tranqed the only man who can tell us where to find Ellison?"

"She's speaking at a rally this morning in DC at eleven. In front of the Capitol." The woman was poring over the files on Morrison's desk. "But locating a single man in a crowd like that..."

Suddenly, Blair felt much better. He could do this. He'd think about what he'd just done later. After he'd got to Jim. "I can find him. Just get me to DC in time."

"Blair, are you sure?" Charlie caught his arm as he headed for the door. "Karin's right. It'll be like a needle in a haystack, man."

The last thing he wanted was to explain to Charlie just why he was so certain he could find Jim. "I know how he thinks, Charlie. We've worked together for four years. Believe me, man, I'll find him."

Charlie studied his face and nodded dubiously. The other two, taking their lead from him, went over to Morrison's unconscious body and dragged him upright between them.

Blair winced at the reminder of what he'd done. "What are you going to do with him?"

"A bit late to worry about that, man, don't you think? Naomi would have a fit." Charlie's face split into a wide grin. "I know someone who knows someone in the System. He'll go away for a long time. I have a dossier on Bobby going back thirty years."

He hugged Charlie hurriedly, feeling oddly sad to be leaving him behind. "I'd better get moving, Charlie. Thanks for everything."

Charlie shook his head. "Naomi said there was something special about you and Jim. You really think you can stop him?"

"I know I can." And god help him if he was wrong.

* * *

It was nearly kick-off time. The sound of the crowd was settling to a dull murmur as guest speakers straggled onto the makeshift stage, but the main speaker hadn't arrived yet. Genevieve Benet. Jim allowed himself to remember the dark, beautiful face, the attractive lilt of her accent. The fierce independence and determination of her spirit. She'd make a great president for St Germaine. Would have.

It was that moment that it really sank home. He was going to kill her. A part of him screamed silent anguish but in another way, it was almost a relief. After four days of anger, fear, and doubt, now he knew.

He took a deep, steadying breath and lifted the sniper's rifle that he'd found when he entered this cluttered little room. How the hell his boss had managed to get access to the Warner Theater, Jim had no idea, but the tower room made a perfect vantage point. He could easily see all the way to the Capitol Building and the small stage that had been erected just in front of the imposing staircase.

Behind him Sorenson shifted restlessly. He didn't trust Jim at all, and if things had been different - if Blair hadn't been involved - he would have been right not to trust him. Jim would have dealt with him in an instant and been long gone by now.

As it was, Sorenson had nothing to worry about. Jim saw no reason to tell him that.

The sound of the crowd changed, and Jim turned his attention back to the stage. Benet had arrived. Taking his time, Jim fitted the rifle to its tripod, sighted through the telescopic lens. Even with the scope, he needed his sentinel abilities to see Benet clearly. Nobody else could have made the shot from here, but Jim knew  _he_  could do it.

He'd wait until she rose to speak at the podium. The line of fire would be easier, with less chance of anyone else being hurt. Jim swallowed, closing his eyes for a moment. Trying not to think of Blair and how upset he was going to be when he heard about Benet's death. Thank god, he'd never know who killed her.

There was some kind of disturbance going on at the edge of the stage. More out of curiosity than anything, Jim focused on the sounds. Someone trying to crash the partly, he thought, and tried not to hope it would disrupt the proceedings enough he wouldn't be able to hit his target.

"...got to  _speak_  to her! It's important, damnit! Genevieve!" It sounded like... it couldn't be. Jim shook his head, his heart pounding. It couldn't be.

"Blair? What are you doing here?" And that  _was_  Benet's voice. Too distinctive for Jim to mistake it. "Let him through."

He aimed the rifle, piggybacking sight on sound the way Blair had taught him, using the scope to enhance his ability; and there he was, hair a little wild, hands gesturing as he explained to Benet. Jim almost zoned on the rapid-fire words, not really listening. Blair knew. He must know who the assassin was too.  _That_  part, he wasn't telling Benet.

When he managed to focus his senses on the stage again, Benet was being hustled off, surrounded by guards. Blair was still on the stage and Jim could see his lips moving, even though there was nobody close.

"...can hear me, Jim. It's over, man. We've got Morrison. You don't have to do this. Jim, it's okay. I really need to see you. Just come out of wherever you're hiding, okay?" Blair's voice wavered, roughened. "I love you, man. Just come on back. Nobody knows what's happened. It's over. No one will ever know."

 _I'll know_ , Jim thought,  _I'll always know_ ; but first he had to get out of here. He shifted the aim minutely, gently pulled back on the trigger. He barely felt the recoil, or heard the muted crack of the rifle. Above Blair's head a corner of the banner exploded into splinters. Jim saw him flinch and heard the agitated grumbling of the crowd change to cries of confusion and alarm.

"Jim! Oh, god, Jim..." Blair was searching vainly for a sight of him, then seemed to realise it would be fruitless. "I'm coming to find you. I'll be on Pennsylvania, Jim. Come and meet me, okay?" And then he was scrambling away, and Jim lost sight of him in the confused melee that was developing around the stage.

He raised his head from the rifle, aware of Sorenson's restlessness behind him.

"Did you hit the target?" Doubt coloured Sorenson's voice. None of them really knew what Jim was capable of, and he'd tried to keep it that way.

Jim forced himself to begin dismantling the rifle. "She's history." He kept his voice neutral, uncaring. The tripod was free, and he folded it carefully and laid it aside before lifting the rifle and standing. "Want to check it for yourself?"

He held the rifle out butt first to Sorenson and, when the other man stepped forward to take it, slammed it into his jaw like he was playing a deadly game of pool. Sorenson went down with a small, pained grunt, unconscious before he hit the ground.

Moving fast, Jim wiped his prints off the rifle and tripod then pressed Sorenson's hands around the rifle barrel and stock and then the tripod. It probably wouldn't fool a halfway decent investigator, but if anyone did find Sorenson here with the rifle, maybe they wouldn't look too closely. In any case, he had more important things to do.

Too impatient now to wait for the elevator, Jim ran down the five flights of stairs to the lobby. Ignoring the few people waiting to buy tickets for whatever show was currently running, he walked away as fast as he could without attracting attention, heading for Pennsylvania.

He'd barely reached the street when he saw Blair in the distance, just pushing his way through the outskirts of the crowd. It seemed like the people at the edges hadn't really picked up on what had happened. Most of them were simply milling aimlessly around. Blair couldn't see him, of course. Not yet. Forsaking caution, Jim broke into a leisurely trot; not too fast, not enough to draw attention, he hoped, but quicker than walking.

It wasn't hard to tell when Blair first saw him. He stopped dead in his tracks for a moment, then broke into a run, weaving between the other pedestrians. Shit! Blair ought to know better than this - running from the scene of a crime, even if the police in evidence looked to be about as useful at tits on a bull. Jim started running too. He needed to reach Blair quickly, get him away from here as soon as possible.

They met on the corner of 9th and Jim ignored Blair's ecstatic, breathless, grin. He grabbed Blair's arm and dragged him along 9th past the Hoover Building - ironic, that - and onto D St. There was a parking building near, probably full of FBI cars, but at least it was cover of a sort.

Blair turned to him the moment the elevator doors closed them in. "Jim..."

He shook his head warningly, laid a couple of fingers against Blair's lips; just the sound of Blair's voice further unravelled his already threadbare control. On the third floor he lead Blair out of the elevator lobby and into a shadowed corner between two dark SUVs. He was breathing hard, as though he'd run a sub four-minute mile.

"Jim..." Blair grabbed at him, but Jim was faster, sinking his hands into the tumbled mass of curls and lowering his head to breathe in his lover's scent.

 _Fuck, yes..._  He closed his mouth gently over Blair's, his tongue sliding over the full lips, pressing inside to taste stale coffee and the sour ketones of someone who hadn't eaten regularly or well for too long. Didn't matter - it was Blair's taste, still, and that was all he needed.

* * *

It didn't really sink in until they got back to the loft. Something about being back in his own territory, maybe, but reaction hit Blair full force as he passed through the doorway. He stopped dead, just inside the door, the weight of his knowledge like a ball and chain around his ankles.

Maybe he made a sound because Jim, a couple of feet ahead of him, stopped, his shoulders tightening noticeably, then turned to face him. "What? It's been a long day, Sandburg. Can we just get to bed?"

Oh, yeah. Jim at his surly, defensive worst. They hadn't talked much on the way back to Cascade - five hours on a commercial flight, forty-five minutes in a cab, maybe two in the elevator... Blair shook his head, trying to clear out the non-essential brain babble from the things he needed to say. They hadn't talked at all about anything that had happened, apart from a few, essential health related enquiries. They hadn't exactly had the privacy to talk about anything important, and he'd been too relieved, too exhausted to care very much.

"You were going to do it, weren't you?" And that came out in a far more accusatory tone than Blair had intended. He forged on anyway. There wasn't any easy way to have this conversation. "You were going to kill Genevieve."

"Yeah, I was." Jim's jaw muscle twitched. He lifted his chin defiantly, though Blair could see the shame in his eyes, and crossed his arms over his chest. "Morrison, if that's his name, didn't exactly leave me any choice. He would have gone after you..."

"So you did it to protect me?" Blair's jaw dropped, though he'd already known what the answer would be. "Jesus, Jim! What if I didn't want my freedom to be at the cost of someone else's  _life_? How was I supposed to live with that?"

"You weren't supposed to know." Jim replied with an air of patience that bordered on aggression. "That was the whole point."

 _He's expecting me to walk out..._ Fuck!  _After all we've been through he still..._  Rage surged through Blair, providing him with a shocking burst of energy. "What? Did you think I'd just get on with my life and forget about you? Is that what  _you_  would have done?"  _And haven't we had this conversation before?_  "Christ, nothing's changed, has it?"

Jim sighed, weariness replacing anger on his face. "Did you really think it would? This is who I am, Blair."

"A murderer?" And that was unfair, but so was this entire situation. He saw Jim flinch, saw his jaw tighten, and suddenly he was sick of it all. He shrugged unhappily. "I'm sorry, that was uncalled for."

"Why? If you and that guy... Gruber? If you hadn't found Morrison's hideout, that's exactly what I would have been."

"Grover. Charlie Grover." His head was pounding, his eyes ached, and all of a sudden he felt bone weary. "Can we not do this now? I know I started it, but I just can't... I just want to sleep, okay?"

"Whatever you say, Chief." Jim turned away. "I'm going to take a shower." He didn't ask if Blair wanted to join him and Blair didn't think it was a good idea to suggest it himself.

He watched Jim walk away and wondered if they'd ever recover from this.

While Jim showered, Blair made tea and forced himself to drink it. It had been a big mistake to bring up that particular subject now. They were both exhausted, now that the euphoria of being back together had faded. They hadn't stopped since this morning - he'd called Naomi and Simon to let them know the good news; Jim had spoken to Simon briefly, his voice subdued, and then they'd headed for Ronald Reagan airport and home.

It didn't feel much like home at the moment; more like a new battleground. Blair sighed and tried to centre himself, but it wasn't working. His hands were still shaking from the adrenaline rush of their argument and his brain felt like it had turned to mush.

The shower stopped and a moment later Jim walked past wearing a towel and glancing at him uneasily, but saying nothing. He hesitated again at the bottom of the stairs, then continued up, his shoulders tense.

A shower was a good idea, Blair thought. Give them both a little more space to wind down, and besides, he must stink by now. He wiped his hand over his face and yawned. Maybe in the morning they'd both have a little more perspective.

* * *

The sound of the shower was dangerously reminiscent of the white noise generator Blair had once given him. It would have been easy to zone on the hiss and roar of it; would have been a relief to lose himself in the sound, but Jim forced himself to resist its allure. When Blair returned, he wanted to be ready.

Following an instinct he didn't care to examine too closely, Jim found the lube stashed in his nightstand and placed it on the bed. Then he stripped. Each piece of clothing removed felt like a layer of protection lost; by the time he was bare he felt naked in every possible sense of the word.

There was no time to waste in hesitation, Blair would be finished soon and he needed... god... he took the cap off the lube with trembling fingers and squeezed a generous amount onto his fingers. He'd never done this before. Never wanted to, and Blair hadn't seemed to mind; but now... now, he had to do  _something_  and he didn't know what. Didn't know how to tell Blair what he needed to say. Maybe this would be enough. Blair always seemed to read him like a book.

He lay back on the bed legs spread wide and hips canted up, and slid a tentative finger over his asshole. It made him shiver, to feel that touch, the slick coolness of it somehow distasteful and arousing at once. But he didn't have time to play around; steeling himself, he slid a finger inside the opening, relieved when all he felt was a slight burn and stretch. This, he could handle. It was just his body, after all.

Another finger was as much as Jim managed before he heard the shower stop. He wasn't ready, not at all, but it would have to be enough. He was nowhere near aroused, either, any more than he ever had been by a doctor's examination. That was more of a problem. He could take whatever Blair would do to him, but they'd never even get started if Blair realised how little he really wanted this.

Dropping the lube onto the nightstand, Jim hastily cleaned his fingers on the wipes Blair always kept handy and then rolled onto his belly. Below, the bathroom door opened and closed again. Jim settled, legs parted invitingly and listened to the soft patter of bare feet on the wooden floor.

The footsteps paused by the door to Blair's bedroom, long enough for Jim's heart to start pounding - what if Blair decided to sleep downstairs? He didn't think he'd have the courage, or desperation, to do this again tomorrow night. Perhaps he should call out - but then the footsteps continued to the bottom of the stairs and Jim let go the breath he was holding.

He didn't exactly count the steps, but he knew when Blair was far enough up that he could see the bed clearly. There was a long pause, and then Blair walked up the last few steps and stopped beside the bed.

"Jim?" Blair swallowed noisily. "What... are you okay?"

He wanted it, Jim realised. Wanted it far more than he'd ever allowed Jim to know. His throat tightened so he could scarcely breathe. How had he not known this?

The bed dipped slightly as Blair sat. A hand drifted lightly, possessively, down his shivering flank and came to rest on his hip. "You don't have to do this, Jim."

"I want..." okay, maybe not  _want_... "need... please, Blair."

Another shift of the mattress beneath him and a brush of towelling against his thigh indicated that Blair had moved closer. Then he felt a moist press of lips against the back of his shoulder.

"I know you don't really want this, Jim, but I'm gonna do it anyway." Blair's voice was rough, shaking. "Because I  _know_  I can make it good for you. So good, babe, you're gonna wonder why you ever thought you didn't want it."

Jim had his doubts about that, but he wasn't about to voice them, not yet, not while Blair had his palm flat against Jim's ass, fingers splayed to cover the whole of one cheek. He could feel every whorl and crease of Blair's handprint, warm and reassuring against his skin.

Then Blair's fingers slipped down between his legs, pressing, rubbing gently at the sweet spot just behind his balls and for a moment there was nothing, nothing but the wash of pleasure that little manoeuvre inevitably brought. He groaned softly, his body instinctively leaning into the caress. But, when those skilled fingers moved, sliding up between his ass cheeks. Jim couldn't stop his whole body from tensing up.

Blair didn't notice. Blair took in a deep, shaken breath, his heartbeat suddenly thundering. "God, Jim did you...?" he chuckled awkwardly. "Jesus, of course you did - who else would have... do you have any idea how hot it makes me, thinking about... _fuck_!"

What the hell...? And then the slippery feel of Blair's fingers against his hole made sense of Blair's incoherence. He shuddered at the touch, a mingling of arousal and discomfort that wasn't entirely unpleasant even though he'd never liked it before when Blair touched him there.

" _That_  makes you hot?" He'd never understand his lover. Never.

Another chuckle, less strained. "You really have no idea, do you? One day I'll get you to do it while I watch."

And  _that_  was strangely arousing. Jim shifted restlessly; his cock, finally starting to get interested, rubbed against the softness of the comforter. "Just get on with it, will you?"

A finger slipped inside him and he gasped, though it went easily enough thanks to his earlier preparation. Somehow it felt different, knowing it was Blair's finger inside him. Blair was breathing noisily; it sounded incredibly loud until Jim realised he'd dialled his hearing up far too high. Wrestling the dial back down again took up all his attention for a moment, and it wasn't until he succeeded that Jim noticed there were now two fingers inside him.

That wasn't quite so comfortable and he squirmed a little. Blair's hand came down firmly in the curve of his lower back. "Keep still, babe. Just let me..."  
Blair's fingers moved inside him, twisting, probing; Jim closed his eyes and pressed his face into the pillow, prepared to endure. It wasn't so bad, he thought. He could definitely do this. The knowledge made it easier and he relaxed a little more.

"That's right, Jim. Just open up to me." Blair's voice dropped lower still, warm and rough with arousal. Jim could smell it coming off him in clouds of musk. He breathed deeply, letting it ease him still more. "This is easy, Jim. It's just our bodies. My fingers, my dick. Your ass. This is the easy part."

Warning bells were going off in the back of his mind, but they were too distant, too muffled by the physical sensations for Jim to pay much attention. Blair's fingers withdrew, were back again - three, this time - more intense, but not too much for Jim to handle. He moaned quietly, pleasure building almost unnoticed until suddenly he was aching with it, rocking onto Blair's fingers, shuddering whenever they brushed against his prostate.

"God, please..." he could barely force the words out. His fingers clenched in the bedding. "Blair, please..."

"It's okay, Jim." Blair brushed a kiss against his shoulder. "We're almost there." Then Blair said softly, "Lift up Jim, you're gonna need this."

He heard the rustle of cloth, and it took a moment to figure out what was happening. He lifted his hips and felt the towel, warm from Blair's body, being pushed beneath him. He sank down again with a groan as the bed shifted beneath him once more.

Now Blair was between his legs. He felt the brush of skin against his inner thighs with something akin to relief. Soon it would be done, and the next time - he was certain there would  _be_  a next time - would be easier. He  _wanted_  to do it; for Blair, if not necessarily for himself.

Blair's body stretched out over his; the weight, the tickle of chest hair familiar and comforting. Jim arched his back a little, rubbing himself against his lover with unfeigned pleasure. Blair's cock pressed hard and heavy against his ass, then slipped between his cheeks, slick with lube, poking bluntly at his hole.

"Oh god..." Blair whispered breathlessly. "Here, just let me..." He fell silent, and Jim felt a hand brush against his ass as Blair took hold of his cock.

The pressure against his hole returned with a vengeance. Jim took a deep breath, his body tensing then relaxing as he breathed out. It was enough. He felt the head of Blair's cock push inside him and froze for a moment. Blair's muttered encouragement was just so much white noise against the overwhelming input - the heat of his cock, the dull, echoing throb of his heartbeat inside Jim's body.  _Inside_  him... Christ, he'd never imagined it would be like this; wasn't sure any more whether it was a good or a bad thing. He zoned a little, deliberately, just to get himself past the initial shock and came back to the feel of Blair's hips moving between his thighs, Blair's cock sliding deep into his body.

"...think it's some kind of coincidence, you deciding to do this now? And what do you think it says about your attitude towards me?" Blair's breath hot and humid against his back... and of  _course_  Blair chose now, when his whole weight was resting on Jim's back, effectively trapping him, to start a damned sermon... "You think everything can be fixed with a quick fuck?" His voice wobbled on the last word.

"No!" He managed to gasp out. "No, just... I wanted to..."

"Make things better?" A quick kiss between his shoulder blades eased Jim's mind a little. Things weren't irretrievable, then. "You moron." Blair's voice was tender, exasperated. "I know, okay? Otherwise we wouldn't be doing this." He emphasised the point with a quick thrust that sent liquid fire through Jim's body.

"You don't hate me?" How pathetic did that sound? But hope flared, even stronger that the arousal that Blair had wrought in him.

Blair stopped moving, his body poised tensely above Jim's. "God, Jim, you don't understand... I would have done the same thing. That's why I was so angry, man. I would have..." Jim heard his breath catch on a sob. "I'd do anything...  _anything_  to protect you."

"No. Blair, you wouldn't..." He fell silent as Blair choked out a denial. This was unimaginably worse than he'd thought. For Blair to admit to such a thing went against everything Jim thought he knew about his lover.

"I  _would_. And, Jim, that's why we can never let it happen again." Blair rubbed his wet face against Jim's shoulder, sniffing audibly. "Haven't you learned yet that we're better together than we are apart? You've got to promise me it won't happen again. Whatever happens we stay together."

He knew what Blair was asking and it went against every instinct he possessed. Jim wasn't at all sure he could honestly make that promise, but what choice did he have? Blair began moving inside him again, and the sensations took his breath away. Deliberately, he thought. Blair knew him too well. He needed time, and Blair was giving him that, and so much more.

"I'll... I'll try..." He whispered, knowing Blair would hear him. Knowing it wasn't enough, but it was a start.

"God, Jim, I love you so damned much." He felt the words against his skin as much as he heard them. "It scares the hell out of me sometimes."

And, oh, how he knew that desperate, skin-crawling feeling... he wished now, with all his heart, that he was facing the other way, facing Blair; able to hold him in his arms and see everything that was in Blair's face and eyes. To let Blair see  _him_... Blair was the only person he'd ever allowed to really see him, and even Blair hadn't seen him stripped bare like he was right now.

Jim realised that his cock, which had wilted completely when Blair entered him, was now harder than ever. His hips were moving without his conscious control, pushing him back onto Blair's cock. Jim lifted his hips, thighs trembling with the strain, and Blair's body curved over his, thrusting deeper, harder now.

His skin fizzed and crackled with energy, and lights sparked behind his closed eyelids. He couldn't last much longer, and Blair was so close to losing it altogether, his breath coming in short gasps. Then a hand crept over his ribs, slid down, under his body, and gave his cock a long, luxurious caress. Jim felt his body quake, his cock pulse sharply, once, then again and again, almost in slow motion, sensation and time mingled, stretching out like warm taffy.

Blair whispered, "Oh,  _Jim_...", his breath catching on a sob, and drove deep into him one last time. The heartbeat thudding against Jim's back was echoed by a muffled throb inside him; so intimate it was almost unbearable. And then Blair shuddered, releasing a burst of astonishing heat, and slumped bonelessly across his back.

Time gradually resumed its normal measure. Jim was aware of Blair's weight on his back, the sweat pooling and trickling between them. Blair snuffled vaguely, nuzzling the back of Jim's neck and then relaxing back into complete inertia. His cock was softening inside Jim, but remained a tangible reminder of what they'd just experienced.

He ought to move - the soggy towel beneath his hips, alone, was reason enough - but he couldn't bring himself to do it even though his back would soon start to protest and his neck already was. Nothing had really been resolved between them, and he wasn't ready to continue the conversation, wasn't ready to face any of the issues that still lay between them. But, for the moment, at least, he still had Blair and for now, that was enough.

 

 

 

 


End file.
